


This way you still owe me

by pr_scatterbrain



Series: Adoption au [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Angst, Found Families, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Potentially coercive behaviour, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/pseuds/pr_scatterbrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Torino apartments are modern and inoffensive, just like Salt Lake’s Olympic village. However instead of getting his hair ruffled by Wayne when Sidney visited his dad, Sidney somehow ends up in Alex’s room watching the short track speed skating highlights of the day while nursing a bottle of liquor Alex pulled from his suitcase with a grin. </p><p>“Zhenya will be sad to miss you,” Alex comments. </p><p>Zhenya being Evgeni Malkin, Sidney realises after a beat. </p><p>Or the one where the Lemieux’s adopts Sidney, Geno is a bit of a fuck up and Alex is Alex (and somehow manages to become Sidney’s bff).</p>
            </blockquote>





	This way you still owe me

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post this in two parts, but then I thought screw it and made it into one huge fic. I wish to thank Sarah, Rae and Lexi for all of their help and support. This would not have been possible without them. Sarah listened to me ramble, Rae was the most generous beta in the world, and Lexi was the voice of reason I needed. Thank you for your time, kindness and friendship. I owe you one. *hugs and hearts*
> 
> n.b. This starts off directly where the first part finished. Please see the tags, particularly the 'potentially coercive behaviour' tag as it applies to some parts. I also aged Lauren Lemieux up a little.

 

**[** **2005-2006]**

 

 

The first day of training camp is surreal. Nothing feels real until the first game when Sidney steps onto the ice against the Boston Bruins. It’s a preseason game, and the stands are scattered with empty seats, but the roar of the crowd is so loud. For a second Sidney’s focus slips - for years he was part of it, up in the family box, cheering for the Pens and – it’s only a momentary slip, but it’s enough to get his heart racing inside his chest.

Up ahead of him, Mario looks over his shoulder and grins. As he does, his jersey stretches across his shoulders, the fabric tight over the body armour underneath. It’s been a few months now since Mario’s new jersey was first made, but Sidney doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to the sight of it. When Sidney had mentioned that to Jaromír, it had made him snort, which wasn’t unexpected given Jaromír was Jaromír. Sidney really should have known better than to think Jaromír would have any other reaction. Currently wearing the Ranger’s C in New York, Jaromír had already told Sidney to expect to pick up the check when they went out for dinner. Although the Pens and Rangers weren’t set to face each other until late December, Sidney had no doubt that Jaromír would remember the promise (he usually did when it was one that benefited him).

A few minutes into the first period, Sidney records his first point and from there, the game passes in a rush.

For the longest time, hockey was the realest thing in Sidney's life for so long, but playing hockey professionally doesn't seem real for a long time. Maybe it never would have, if it wasn't for Mario. 

Afterwards, the team goes out. There wasn’t a win to celebrate but it’s not always about that, especially in the preseason. Nursing a soft drink, Sidney ends up sitting with Mario in the booth. Around him, his team mates are loud and vibrant. Josef Melichar is laughing and Ryan Whitney is trying to convince the bartender that he doesn’t need to look at his ID. Or he’s flirting. Maybe both. It’s difficult to tell. Ryan’s grinning and behind him some of the team veterans are rolling their eyes. Maybe if Ryan’s lucky one of them will step in and stop him from embarrassing himself too much. Slumped into the corner of the booth, Sidney feels the adrenalin rush from the game fading. When Mario bows out early, Sidney knows he should stay but it’s easier to go.

Yawning as he buckles himself into the car, Sidney rests his head on the headrest as they pull away from the bar. A few cameras flash. Sidney’s not sure what they will – or even can – capture through the dark glass windows of Mario’s SUV, but Sidney doesn’t let his head loll over onto the cool glass of the car window until they’re a street away.

 

 

Four days after the overtime loss against the Bruins, the Penguins fly out to play the Washington Capitals.

As a rookie, Sidney’s tries not to step on anyone’s toes off the ice. On the ice, it’s easier. He knows how it works. There are rules, and routines. Sidney does well with those. He knows them; knows how they work, knows how to place himself inside their context. But Sidney doesn’t really know what to make of Alexander Ovechkin. He’s loud and seems to be everywhere. If people aren’t talking about him, they’re writing about him. There are articles and interviews and sports segments devoted to him. The entire league is talking about him and the season hasn’t officially started. As rookies, in theory, they’re meant to be rivals. Or at least they’re compared against each other more often than not. In reality – Sidney doesn’t know. When they meet on the ice, Ovechkin grins at Sidney and spends most the game getting in Sidney’s way. After the game, he turns up at the bar Sidney’s been dragged to, drinks the dregs of Sidney’s beer and hangs off Sidney’s shoulders.

“I’ve heard all about you,” he tells Sidney.

Most people have.

Sidney’s heard of Ovechkin too. But he doesn’t say that. Ovechkin already knows. That is obvious. The knowledge of it is in his smirking grin and the carriage of his shoulders. He is used to space being made for him, used to people knowing exactly who he is and exactly what he can do. It shows. It all shows. But Sidney doesn’t have to say that, or anything.

Instead, Sidney says, “Good game, Ovechkin.”

It wasn’t, not really. The game had been billed as the clash of the future hall of famers – which had made Sidney uncomfortable – but then the Capitals had won it. As had all the other teams the Penguins had played so far. Sidney knows the season hasn’t even begun. He does.

“Alex,” Ovechkin corrects with an indulgent smile.

Sidney tries not to react.

A few days later, (after another loss this time to the Senators), the Pens play the Caps again, and lose by one. Afterwards, Ovechkin – Alex – is waiting outside the visitors locker room.  

“Good game, Sid,” he parrots with a grins.

Sidney – Sidney is tired and Mario is right behind him.

“Drink?” Alex asks.

Sidney shakes his head. Alex smiles though, and shakes his head like Sidney gave the wrong answer. Sidney’s given a lot of wrong answers over the years, but this isn’t one of them. Yet for some reason he still ends up at a bar watching Alex convince one of guys to buy them a round. It isn’t a difficult task. Not with a win under their belt and enough left over adrenalin to make even the most responsible veteran act as their go between.

It’s the veterans on the Pens who sometimes buy Sidney a round. He doesn’t ask and they don’t make a big deal about it. Beers just appear on the table for him. The younger guys on the team alternate between making a huge joke out of it, and being wary of overstepping unsaid lines. Mario’s presence is always felt. Sidney understands that if nothing else. He laughs too, when it is a joke. The Pens are his team. Sidney knows that. And every team has its in jokes.

Sidney doesn’t know the legal drinking age in Russia. It probably wouldn’t matter even if Sidney did. Back in juniors, there was always a guy who smuggled something onto road trips. Before juniors too, it was never much of a challenge to get a hold of liquor. Jack always ended up giggly and red cheeked whenever they managed to get themselves invited to a party. It’s doubtful that Alex, of all people, ever had a problem getting what he wanted.

 

 

A few grainy camera phone pictures surface the following day.

The guys tape them to Alex’s locker. It makes Alex laughs and ask if they want him to sign them.

“Give to sisters and girlfriends?” he jokes.

It isn’t anything, but because the media can, they make it into something. The Capitals PR team talk to Alex about it after practice. They tell him to be ready for questions. Alex already understands – but he lets them explain why anyway. At home, his mother had eyed him when he told her all about Sidney, and how Alex had taken him to the best bars in D.C.

Being rivals is fun, Alex supposes, but he thinks they will make better friends.

They next time they play, Alex takes Sidney out again.

“Third time lucky,” he tells Sidney.

“I don’t think you understand what that means,” Sidney says.

Alex doesn’t care. Throwing an arm around Sidney’s shoulder, Alex gets Dainius Zubrus to order them beer and shots and smiles when Sidney eyes them dubiously.

“Beer without vodka is like throwing money into the wind,” Alex tells him.

“That’s stupid,” Sidney grumbles.

It is, Alex knows. But he smiles because it’s fun anyway.

 

 

(There is a narrative, and then there is them. Sidney may make a fuss, but he understands that just like Alex does.)

 

 

The summer after the draft, Sidney moves back home. Partway into the season, he’s still there. People make it into such a big deal. The team finds it hilarious. They make all these jokes about Mario grounding Sidney when he swears on the ice or asking if he can stay out past his curfew when they’re organising team dinners. The press too, seem to mention it in every second article. They always bring up his rookie contract and how wealthy they assume he is, implying that he should really be living it up in some sprawling mansion like Alex (despite the fact that Alex spends half of his time complaining about how his parents don’t stay long enough and the other half being spoilt by them while they are staying with him).

Sidney though - well, over the last few years he's spent more time away from home than living there. He loves hockey. He loves being a Penguin and getting paid to do what he loves. But he misses home. He misses his sisters and his brother, talking to Nathalie while they make dinner, and walking the dogs with Mario on the weekend. 

It’s easy to fall back into old routines, in sitting in the kitchen with Nathalie while she cooks, staying up late taking with Lauren, and weekend hikes with Mario. Sometimes Sidney picks up Stephanie from school, and gets to listen to her plans to convince their parents to let her start taking horse riding lessons with her best friend. On his free days he gets to sit around with Austin and Alexa, and hear all of their opinions about his form on the ice.

Home is the one part of his life that hasn’t changed.

At the end of the day, it is such a comfort to have a place waiting for him. He doesn’t really know how to explain it. He tried to explain it a few times, but afterwards even when his answer is printed word for word, it feels like a misquote. Once Lauren asks about it; it comes up while they are discussing her plans for college. He doesn’t have a more articulate answer for her, only an honest one.

“I don't want to be anywhere else,” he tells her.

He isn’t sure if she understands. It’s her final year of high school. Even though she is submerged in school work and study, he knows she is thinking about the idea of leaving home. Some of her friends have already received early acceptance letters. Selfishly though, Sidney doesn’t like to think too much about her leaving.

Sighing, Lauren rests her head on her hands, “It’s not like you can’t visit me.”

“You could go to University of Pittsburgh,” he tries, half-heartedly. “Then I wouldn’t have too.”

Turning her head a little, she looked up at him and smiles; the corners of her eyes crinkling a little. “I would have visited you in Anaheim if the Ducks got the first pick instead of the Pens.”

Sidney knows she would have, he knows they all would have.

Lauren smirks. “Or maybe I wouldn’t. I don’t think I can support any team other than the Pens. Even the thought of hypothetically cheering for the Ducks makes me feel queasy.”

Sidney snorts. “Yeah, yeah.”

He doesn’t quite know why it feels like there is a difference between him leaving Pittsburgh to play hockey, and her leaving to go to college. It’s unfair of him, he knows that. She was the first one to become a constant – to become family to him – and she has always wanted the best for him even when that involved him being gone for huge parts of the year.

“I’ve got to give it a try,” she says softly.

Sidney gets that, but he hates hearing the anxiety in her voice. He knows he put some of it there.

“I’ll visit,” he promises.

She pinches him. “You’ll embarrass me.”

Sidney probably will. Lauren won’t mind too much. They both know that.

 

 

Midway through another disappointing season, Ed Olczyk, the Penguins head coach, is fired. He is replaced by Michel Therrien. Halfway through December and struggling to find their form, Therrien doesn’t walk into a buoyant locker room. From Sidney’s stall, Sidney watches Therrien; traces his movement though the room, and the way his eyes sweep over each of the players. Ducking his head, Sidney lets Therrien’s gaze slip over him.

There is an A on Sidney’s jersey now. (There is something new for the sports pundits to complain about now).

Making Sidney an alternate captain of the team was one of the first things Therrien did after being made coach. Olczyk tried to make Sidney an alternate before. Sidney said no then, but Therrien wouldn’t take no for an answer. Sidney still isn’t sure what he thinks about that. He wants it – deep down he always wanted to be an alternate captain for the Penguins. But it’s difficult to want things like that. Even now, even after everything.

The A presses against his chest during practice. Therrien told Sidney to get used to the weight of it. He had smiled when he said that, as if it was Sidney’s right. Nothing has ever felt less like a right than this.

While waiting in line at the end of practice for shoot out practice against Flower, Colby Armstrong taps his stick against Sidney’s skates. 

“Looking good, kid,” Colby smirks.

Sidney ignores him.

They’re friends, but Sidney knows Colby and that smirk.

The Pens are in flux. They aren’t quite a young team, but Sidney gets the feeling that Mario and Therrien are looking to the future. It’s a daunting notion, especially when they are struggling to get some footing in the league rankings. For the most part Marc and Colby are more focused on their own place on the team, than they are on the team itself. Until recently, it was a luxury Sidney wasn’t aware existed.

 

 

In January, Mario retires. There are many reasons he gives, but it’s his heart that forces him out. He can’t find it in himself to feel too bitter. Back when he first thought of returning, part of what inspired him and pushed him into regaining form, was the idea of having his family there, to see him play. All of them; his youngest, Austin and Alexa who had never seen him play, and his oldest, Sidney, who had not been there with them while Mario was playing.

It’s funny, really, how things turn out.

In order to secure the Penguins future, Mario came back from retirement. Truthfully though, he could have stopped after one or two seasons. He’s kids would have had memories of him as a Penguin, and by that time the Penguins had begun to regain their footing. He didn’t need to have stayed for as long as he did. Now it’s easy to see why. Even though he only played part way through Sidney’s rookie season, Mario will always treasure the time he and Sidney spent on the ice together. Sidney was always destined for the NHL – was going to be remembered – but it felt like too much of a dream to imagine Sidney becoming a Penguin.

Despite everything, Mario could never quite manage to think about what it would be like to play alongside him until he did. Although Mario’s final game wasn’t particularly memorable or important, it was one where he skated with Sidney, and had their family watching them up in their family box.

Mario can’t feel too much disappointment.

His second and final retirement might not have come the way he wanted to leave the ice, but he was so blessed to have the career he did.

 

 

Although Mario isn’t a member of the Canadian Olympic team, they still have tickets to the Winter Games in Torino and with the NHL having announced a break in play for the duration of the games, Sidney has two weeks of holiday he doesn’t know what to do with. Idly, he had thought of going up to see Lauren at college, or hanging out with Jack but before he gets around to making any firm plans, Mario decides for him – for all of them.

“We should go,” Mario says, before Nathalie or the kids can quietly dispose of the tickets. “Wayne is managing again. It’ll be fun.”

Fun isn’t the term anyone else would have chosen, but they go. Against the odds, it is fun. In their family’s hotel suite, Sidney sits in Lauren’s room and she paints a glittery maple leaf on his cheek and ties red and white ribbon into Stephanie’s hair. Together the three of them attend any event they and the Gretzky kids can scrounge up tickets too. They haven’t spent all that much time together since Salt Lake. But enough time has passed to make it easier between them. This year, Ty is at Shattuck’s. Sidney isn’t sure if Ty is enjoying it (it’s difficult to tell with Ty), but it’s something Sidney can talk to him about, which helps as Lauren is still a little cool towards Paulina. Stephanie isn’t and her happy chatter fills most of the awkward silences as does Trevor Gretzky’s jokes and stories about his baseball and football team. On the whole it isn’t so bad. Over the course of the day, the six of them manage to see skeet shooting, pair’s ice skating, and bobsledding.

While on their way back to the hotel, Sidney hears someone call his name. Turning, he sees Alex waving.

“Shit,” Sidney finds himself saying.

“Language,” Stephanie chides in a sing song voice.

Sidney would pinch her, only before he can, Alex is there and smiling brightly at him.

“Sidney Lemieux!” Alex says. “My friend. You did not tell me you come to see me win gold!”

Sidney makes a face.

Every time Sidney sees Alex, Alex always seems so much bigger, just, larger than life than Sidney remembers. Now is no different. Dressed head to toe in the Russian Olympic uniform, he holds himself so tall and has no shame whatsoever when he smuggles Sidney into the brightly coloured apartment complexes which form the Olympic village.

From Sidney’s experiences at the Salt Lake games, Sidney knows the Olympic village is firmly off limits for anyone who isn’t an athlete, team official, or team trainer. Even family have to go through extensive checks before entering. Somehow Alex manages to get Sidney past all of them.    

“You’re going to get in trouble,” Sidney tells him.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Trouble? No. You see my goals? I won last game.”

Sidney had and Alex did, but he tells Alex that he saw the penalties instead.

Alex makes a face. “Swedish ref.”

“Still roughing and elbowing calls.”

“Rough play Zhenya, not me.”

Maybe in the third game against Kazakhstan, but in the second game against Sweden, Alex had gotten call for roughing. 

Alex smiles though, when Sidney points that out. “You were there?”

Alex smile is so wide and so knowing and Sidney hates it. He hates too that Alex clearly knows Sidney was there in the stands and that any answer Sidney gives will just make him laugh. Drawing his shoulders up a little, Sidney shrugs tensely. But Alex does not laugh; instead he loops an arm over Sidney’s shoulders and leads him into the Russian hockey team apartments.

The apartments are modern and inoffensive, just like Salt Lake’s Olympic village. However instead of getting his hair ruffled by Wayne when Sidney visited his dad, Sidney somehow ends up in Alex’s room watching the short track speed skating highlights of the day while nursing a bottle of liquor Alex pulled from his suitcase with a grin. Sidney doesn’t know exactly what it is, but he knows better than to drink it. In the bathroom getting changed, Alex yells something about how Sidney should come to dinner with his family before the games are finished.

Sidney is confused. He has met Alex’s parents. The four of them had dinner last time Sidney was in Washington.

Alex pokes his head out of the door. “Yes, you did. They like you. That’s why they want to see you again.”   

Sidney isn’t sure what to make of that. “Okay, I guess.”

“Did you like them?” Alex asks, teasingly.

Sidney eyes him. 

Alex grins. Now dressed in neon sweat pants and a Caps t-shirt, he pushes Sidney aside and sits next to him on the bed. Taking the bottle from Sidney’s hands, Alex takes a sip. Ignoring Alex, Sidney glances over to the empty bed in the room.

“Where’s your roommate?”

“Not here,” Alex says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sidney wrinkles his nose. Alex laughs, loud and happy, and takes another sip of liquor.

“Zhenya will be sad to miss you,” Alex comments.

Zhenya being Evgeni Malkin, Sidney realises after a beat.

Malkin’s is also on the Russian team and is one of the youngest hockey players competing this year. Although Sidney and Mario had attended the Russian hockey games to support their fellow Pen, Sergei Gonchar, it had been a prime opportunity to watch Evgeni. In the time since the Penguin’s had drafted him, he has only gotten better. It was clear from watching him, that he was going to mature into a remarkable player one day. Yet even Sidney can admit it’s difficult to focus on anyone else when Alex is on the ice. On the bigger rink, Alex just seems to take off. Stretching and eating up the ice with each stride.

As the highlights from the day’s events conclude and the news anchors shift to talking about the upcoming events, Alex leans back against the headboard.

“You have one, I have two,” Alex states.

Turning a little, Sidney eyes him. “Of what?”

“Medals to win,” Alex says simply, knocking his knee against Sidney’s. “But I have a head start on you.”

Sidney waits for Alex to say something more, to make it into something. But Alex doesn’t.

 

 

Alex manages to get Sidney to stay and watch replays for the rest of the afternoon, but he begs off staying for dinner citing a prior engagement with the Gretzky family. Alex thinks it is a mistake to decline Alex’s invitation. Certainly Sidney will be present in the next games, but how often does one get the opportunity to dine at the Olympic village?

He tells this to Zhenya over dinner. It makes Zhenya frown into his pasta.

Alex nods at Sergei Gonchar and thinks about mentioning that Zhenya’s boss and his family have been watching their games. He decides not to. Zhenya is so transparent when it comes to his awe and excitement about playing on the Lemieux’s team. It is almost too easy to tease him. Almost. Back in their room, Zhenya shoves Alex when Alex tells him about how Sidney had sat on his bed. It makes Alex grin.

“Then it’s a good thing Seryozha and I didn’t save you a seat at the woman’s game this afternoon,” Zhenya says.

He did though, he is lying through his teeth, Alex can tell. Alex can always tell with Zhenya.

“Liar,” Alex grins.

Zhenya gives Alex a disappointed look.

“What if I made it up to you?” Alex offers.

This, of all things makes Zhenya laugh. Which makes no sense at all to Alex.  Frowning, he tells Zhenya as much.

“No, no,” Zhenya says. “That’s not funny at all.”

Alex isn’t sure if he believes Zhenya.

Zhenya smiles, wide and happy. “I guess I better take up your offer. You know, in case you get a better one.” 

Stepping into Zhenya’s space, Alex touches Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya’s pulse gives him away, as always, as does the shuddering exhale of breath. It makes Alex smile as he kisses Zhenya. Lips slick and skin hot, Zhenya is gorgeously easy for Alex. Opening his mouth and legs and gasping like it’s been years since Alex touched him instead of hours.

They fuck in Zhenya’s bed and when Alex tells Zhenya, just to see how he will react, about how his linen smells of Sidney’s cologne, Zhenya whimpers like Alex is telling him the filthiest thing, and meets each of Alex’s thrusts like his body was made for only this. Eyes so dark and cheeks flushed, Zhenya falls apart under Alex, and when he comes, it is like his orgasm tears through him. Breathless, with his belly and chest splattered with cum, he sobs when Alex comes, curling his fingers tight in Alex’s hair.

In the aftermath, Alex showers and changes into boxers and a soft t-shirt. From the other side of the room, Zhenya lays naked and spent, breath is still short and his sweaty hair stuck to his skin.

“Come on, lazy,” Alex tells him, slapping his thigh. “Shower, then sleep.”

Grumbling, Zhenya rolls off the bed and stumbles into the bathroom. Flicking off the light, Alex gets into his clean bed. He’s drifting off to sleep when he feels Zhenya slip under the sheets next to him. Skin warm from the shower, and hair wet, he curls up against Alex’s back, fitting his body along the strong line of Alex’s spine and legs, and it is to the sound of Zhenya breath evening out that Alex falls asleep. 

 

 

(In the end, Alex comes away from the games without a medal of any kind. Neither of he nor Sidney mention it the next time their teams face each other).

 

 

The season ends on a somewhat muted note.

The Penguins lose their last game of the season against the Toronto Maple Leafs. They don’t qualify for the playoffs. The understated exit of the Pens is perhaps unfairly overshadowed the records Sidney managed to accrue as he ends the season. Not only does he become the youngest player in NHL history to score one hundred points in a single season, he establishes a new franchise record of sixty three assists and one hundred and two points for a rookie. Both records had previously been held by Mario. That becomes another thing people comment about, but at least with the season over, Sidney doesn’t have to deal with too much of it. Sleeping though the first few days of the off season, Sidney misses most of the first wave of ‘Father-(adopted) Son’ comparisons.

Sometimes he wonders when the ‘adopted’ son thing, (which is a thing), will stop being one.

He isn’t sure if it will.

It’s a story. A good one. Sidney understands how people like to run with it. He can’t blame them, he supposes.

After cleaning out his stall in the locker room, Sidney doesn’t have all that much time until the World Ice Hockey Championships in May. Being held in Latvia, Sidney knows a handful of guys on the Team Canada roster. A few Pens are heading over too. Jani Rita is playing for Finland, Tomáš Surový is on the Team Slovakia roster, while Brooks Orpik and Ryan Malone have been selected to play for Team USA. Brooks and Ryan have already mentioned catching up while there over there, as has Alex who is proudly a key member of the Russian team’s starting line.

Once there, although in different groups, Sidney does manage to grab a drink with Alex after attending a mandatory Team Canada dinner. Sidney had spent most of the dinner talking with Patrice Bergeron. Inquisitive and articulate, he reminded Sidney a great deal of Lauren. By the time Sidney meets up with Alex, he’s a little tipsy on the red wine they had been served with dinner. It’s easy though, to let Alex think the cold of Riga’s night air left him flushed.

The Capitals did a little better than the Penguins and finished one place head of them in the final standings. They did not make the playoffs though. Alex is bright and unaffected when he greats Sidney, wrapping him up in a tight hug. Sidney puts up with it for a few seconds, which of course means Alex hugs him until Sidney is about ready to give in and squirm away. If it’s a joke, it’s a one sided one.

“Pretty goal against Denmark,” Alex compliments.

“Which one?” Sidney retorts because he still doesn’t know better when it comes to Alex.

Alex laughs. “Both?”

Sidney makes a face. Neither of his two goals were all that pretty compared to what the other guys did on the ice during that game, but it isn’t like prettiness counts for all that much in hockey. Alex had scored three goals against Kazakhstan. They had all been breathtaking in their own way. Sidney knows this is the point in the conversation where he should return the compliment. Alex clearly knows that too if his smirk is anything to go by. Instead, Sidney compliments Evgeni for his goal.

Standing a little back from the two of them, Evgeni is watching them with an expression Sidney can’t read. When Alex reluctantly translates for Sidney, Evgeni seems to get a little flustered, shuffling his feet a little and ducking his head.

Over drinks, Alex explains that Evgeni is shy.

Sidney is used to people saying that about him. It sounds as insulting directed at Evgeni as it does when it is applied to Sidney. Although Alex has always seemed to confidently ignore any supposed language barrier, Sidney remembers the translator Evgeni relied upon at the draft. In Rimouski, Sidney arrived with a tentative understanding of French. However even with it, he struggled to communicate and connect with his teammates and his billet family. Language can be defining as much as it can be alienating. At least that’s Sidney’s experience. It’s seemingly different for Alex. For most of the evening, he easily alternates between English and Russian. His smile infectious and his arm slung over the back of Sidney’s side of the booth.

Evgeni rolls his eyes a few times. Sidney tries not to smile when he catches Evgeni doing it. Alex doesn’t notice, but he wouldn’t.   

“See you in the finals,” Alex promises at the end of the night.

It’s an awful promise and it makes Sidney wince.

 

 

(Neither the Canada or the Russian team make the finals – that honour goes to Sweden and the Czech Republic. The former of the two leaves with a gold medal).

 

 

After Worlds, Sidney’s days slowly start to fill as the summer progresses. Steve has projects for Sidney to look at, and Mario has team matters Sidney needs to stay abreast off. When Sidney resumes his training program, days start to fly by. The schedule Sidney and Jay develop is intense, but towards the end of summer, Jaromír invites Sidney to fly over to Kladno and train with him for a fortnight.

It’s been a while since Sidney last saw him, and partly Sidney thinks the invitation is an excuse for both of them to catch up with each other. It is doubtful however, that Jaromír would ever admit that. As set in his ways as Mario, Jaromír isn’t one for overt sentimentality. On the phone he talks about how they both need to change their training up – help each other work on their weaknesses. It’s a good idea, Sidney agrees. Yet in practice Sidney arrives and ends up spending most of his time in Kladno outside, working twice as hard as he had in Montreal. Jaromír loves it. He smirks when Sidney ends their work out practically dead on his feet with exhaustion.

“You’re not one to talk, Jaro,” Sidney pants because Jaromír is just as red and out of breath.

“Age before beauty,” Jaromír reminds him slyly.

Sidney swears at him.

Jaromír snorts.

More or less the entire time in Kladno is spent in the same manner. Jaromír is easy to be around. He isn’t particular impressed by anything, and doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. He pushes Sidney, and his critiques are reasoned and insightful. Sometimes they skate with some local players. They seem to find it hilarious watching Jaromír skate Sidney into the ground. At least until Jaromír does the same to them. By the time the month is out, Sidney leaves feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. 

“Next year you fly from Kladno to Moscow,” Alex says when he calls to check in before the pre-season begins.

Sidney doesn’t think he could survive Alex’s idea of a good time. When he tells Alex, Alex laughs.

 

 

**[2006-2007]**

 

 

For a long time there is no definite word on Evgeni Malkin. His agent, J. P. Barry, is vague whenever questioned. The other connections the Penguins have in the KHL seem equally unable to give an answer. Even Sidney learns nothing new when he brings up the topic with Alex. From what Mario knows of Evgeni’s plans, he wanted to come to the NHL and was planning to do just that after his contract with Metallurg Magnitogorsk expired. Yet then he signs an extension and his future seems to diverge from the Penguins. Or that’s how it appears until he disappears from training camp in Helsinki in August.

In the Penguins offices, Mario listens to the whispers and rumours, and tries not to expect anything out of them. Then within the space of a few days Evgeni is stateside. He appears in LA and attends a training session with the Kings, before flying to Pittsburgh where Mario awaits him. Gathering his family together, they stand on their porch with the Gonchar’s and watch the headlights of the hired car as it approaches the house.

It has been so long since Mario last saw Evgeni. His shirt is wrinkled from the flight, and although he looks exhausted from the events of the last few days and weeks, adrenalin keeps him going through the glass of wine Mario pours him, and the barbeque Mario cooks. It won’t last forever; Mario more than understands that, but it’s enough for now. In the corner of Mario’s eye, he watches as Sidney manages to draw Evgeni into a half halting conversation.

While Mario tends the grill, Sidney talks about how happy he is that Evgeni is here in Pittsburgh, and about how he hopes Evgeni will settle into the team. It takes a beat for each sentiment to be translated, and to be answered, but it doesn’t dampen Sidney’s enthusiasm or Evgeni’s awe.

The two of them look so young; Evgeni especially.

They are all legs and arms and knobbly knees and blind ambition. Through his translator, Evgeni talks about watching the Penguins. He talks of Sidney’s goals, of watching every game. Sidney flushes and shakes his head. The reaction makes Evgeni lean forward in his seat and insist that yes, Evgeni watched everything. There is something so unguarded about him, something so earnest. Mario doesn’t remember being that young even when he was the same age as Evgeni. 

For a moment, Evgeni almost reminds Mario of Jaromír.

Evgeni has little of Jaromír’s easy confidence, but there is something about the way his eyes light up that makes Mario remember meeting Jaromír for the first time. He had been so gloriously talented and had made everything seem effortless. As star struck as he had been upon meeting Mario, there were times Mario felt awe struck watching Jaromír on the ice. No one could – or can – do what Jaromír does. There had been moments though, where he had been so vulnerable.

Not many people saw Jaromír like that, or remembered how he had left everything he knew for a chance of playing in the NHL. Evgeni had done the same and it makes Mario glad that Gonch and his wife Ksenia have offered to take Evgeni into their home. So far away from home, and having left in such an inauspicious way, Evgeni needs one part of his life to be easy. Even now, Mario can still remember how difficult Jaromír had found adjusting to life in Pittsburgh to be. It was those memories which lead Mario to reach out and invite Marc-André Fleury into their home. Unfortunately the arrangement had not panned out, but Mario does not regret making the offer.

At the end of the evening, after Evgeni had started yawning and was taken home with the Gonchar’s, Mario retires to his den. It is too late to give his attention to any of the tapes Sidney asked Mario’s opinion of, or to review the progress updates Therrien emailed through. After a while Mario finds himself drifting back into the kitchen were Nathalie and Sidney are speaking quietly to each other. Half asleep, Stephanie has her arms wrapped around Nathalie’s waist, and Nathalie is softly stroking her hair while Sidney feeds the dogs scraps from dinner.

“You’re spoiling them,” Mario chides him, smiling a little at the sight of his family.

“He takes after you,” Nathalie reminds Mario. It’s true.

Peeking up at Mario through her hair, Stephanie blinks sleepily.

The night is warm and summary, and the evening felt like a success. It is a little too soon to be placing any bets, but Mario feels like he could.

It isn’t until Sidney’s next free weekend when he and Mario find time to go for a hike together that Mario gets to ask what Sidney thinks of Evgeni. Mario has gotten preliminary reports from the coaches and trainers, but it is one thing to hear feedback from them, it is another to hear Sidney’s opinion. When it comes to hockey and to the Pens, there is no one Mario trusts like Sidney. Although young, his eye and instinctual understanding of hockey is remarkable.

“Geno,” Sidney corrects.

Nicknames are a good sign Mario thinks.

Sidney wrinkles his nose though. “Some of the guys can’t say his name.”

That’s another topic, Mario knows, but not one for today.

“Does he mind?”

Sidney is quiet. “No. I don’t think so.”

Reading people isn’t always Sidney’s strength. He can anticipate movement and reactions; he can judge what players will do on the ice before they’ve even begun to think about it. Off the ice too, he can read peoples moods in an instinctual way that Mario has thought about often over the years. Yet Sidney can’t always understand deeper motives and drives. Mario hopes that this season, Sidney will start to learn to. It was something Mario and Michel Therrien discussed before they made Sidney captain.

Sidney was the clear choice. As a player, Sidney’s talent and drive was singular. Yet as a rookie, Sidney had tended to stay on the outer edges of the team dynamic. Mario wrote off this as partly due to Sidney’s diffidence as much as it was due to his teammate’s unease with the idea of being friends with the son of the team captain and owner; even some of the more outgoing guys in the locker room were unsure how to approach Sidney. It had helped when Therrien made Sidney an alternate captain. Despite the negative reaction of the press, the position was one which allowed Sidney to connect with the team. During the course of the season, Sidney began to engage more with his teammates, turning his attention to their form, and helping them refine their play during practice. Therrien encouraged it – Therrien in general, helped Sidney grow into himself, emphasising the need for Sidney to take on more responsibility and play a greater role within the team.

Mario does not expect a seamless transition for Sidney. Though everyone knew he was to be the Pens captain months before the formal announcement, it is a role Sidney will grow into overtime. Although Sidney is so young – the youngest player to ever be made captain in the NHL – Mario does not doubt him. Here, now, Sidney is still new to what is means to be a team captain and as much as Mario is asking for Sidney’s insight about Geno, he knows this is a way to support Sidney and show confidence in his leadership. 

“Is there any news on the lawsuits Metallurg launched?” Sidney asks.

Mario sighs. The lawsuits are one of many headaches he’s currently trying to resolve. Legally, Evgeni – Geno – is in limbo. But he isn’t going anywhere. Mario won’t let that happen. Geno’s a Penguin now and as soon as the legal team clears it, Mario will formally sign him. He tells Sidney as much.

“I know,” Sidney says.

 

 

(Mario thought he understood what trust meant. But he didn’t. Not until Sidney.)

 

 

The tapes that Sidney watched of Evgeni – Geno – and the few times they’d played against each other don’t quite prepare Sidney for what it’s like to have Geno on the Penguins with him. At morning practice Geno stands next to Gonch and yawns while Therrien coaches, and in the locker room, Sidney sometimes catches Geno glancing from teammate to teammate, looking out of place and trying not to show it. One time Sidney somehow catches Geno’s eye. Sidney’s media trained smile comes a beat too late – Geno looks away immediately.

It’s hard to reconcile the way Geno can turn up to practice half-asleep with how determined he is on the ice. There, Geno plays like he has something to prove. Each minute he plays feels like time he is trying to make up. Fully recovered after dislocating his shoulder in his preseason debut, he scores a goal in each of the first six games he plays.

Each goal feels like a statement – each goal is something to comment upon.

The media attention Geno receives is intense. At the centre of it, Geno seems so young to Sidney. There are times when he is so easy to read. His anger, and his fears, and the exhaustion that he never quite seems to sheds no matter how many free days he sleeps through. It makes Sidney want stand between Geno and the world. Geno is older – he turned pro around the same time Sidney was getting into trouble with Jack at Shattuck – but it’s like Geno never learnt anything at all.

Sergei is quiet when Sidney brings it up. “He’s trying.”

Sidney knows Geno is.

Sidney’s trying to. It doesn’t feel like enough though.

The team have more or less adopted Geno. In particular, the louder more rambunctious guys have taken to Geno’s quicksilver grins, like they can just tell he’s in on all of their jokes whether he understands them or not. That helps, however sometimes Sidney worries the louder Jordan, Ryan and Max are, the quieter Geno can become without anyone noticing. When they have free time, Sidney makes an effort to invite Geno out for dinner.

Dinner with Geno is a bit hit or miss affair. It usually involves a reasonable amount of forethought and planning. Sidney knows his limitations and can recognise Geno’s. It’s worth it though, to get the opportunity to check in with Geno and to get to know him away from the ice. On the ice, Sidney thinks he has Geno’s measure, but that isn’t the same as knowing him. Jack taught Sidney that.

Currently Jack’s at the University of Michigan playing for Wolverines. Occasional Sidney gets tipsy and drunk dials him and once or twice Jack has written very long and involved emails about girls in his classes and the guys he’s dating and TA’s who are making him read books he thinks Sidney would enjoy. College life suits him, and although Sidney isn’t sure he understands Jack’s reasons for staying for a second year rather than signing with the North Carolina Hurricane’s like they wanted, he can appreciate that Jack is where he wants to be. The LA Kings hold his rights now, and where the Hurricanes lost patience, the Kings seem to accept Jack’s self-imposed timeline.

Jack sounds proud whenever they talk. “You’re such a good captain.”

Sidney wouldn’t go that far. In all honestly, he’s a pretty substandard one. The Pens less than impressive season is evidence of that. He’s trying though, especially with Geno.

“That’s why you’re so good,” Jack says, when Sidney tries to argue with him.

There is no winning with Jack. Sidney should know that by now. Jack would like Geno, Sidney thinks. Geno needs a friend like Jack. Sidney isn’t Jack, but he still remembers how it felt to have Jack at his back, loyal and true. Sidney wants Geno to have that. Geno needs that, especially now, and Sidney tries to give him it to the best of his abilities.

The lawsuit Metallurg Magnitogorsk launched, and all the complications which come with it, occupy much of Mario’s time. At home, Mario is often on conference calls with Geno’s agent and with the Pens board. The legal team are in and out of the house, their voices low and serious and their faces drawn. Yet Geno’s fate is just one of many concerns Mario is dealing with. The Penguins have been struggling for so long. Sidney knows this. Everyone knows this. He knows that Mario doesn’t want the team to focus on it. It’s difficult for Sidney not to bring it into the locker room with him when knows why Mario and some of the ownership group are in talks with Kansas City, Missouri. Other cities too, have approached the Penguins.

During practice Sidney makes himself keep his head up.

It is a constant balancing act between being a player on the team and being a Lemieux. Sidney knows this, and he tries his best to navigate the expectations he must carry and the responsibilities he was given. He’s the captain now – he has to act like it. The prospect of the Penguins relocating might not be something Sidney wants to think about it, but he has to. The possibility of moving hangs over everyone, but there are older guys on the team who have families. They have lives in Pittsburgh. They entire organisation is filled with people who call Pittsburgh home. Sidney cannot be selfish.

When the Caps play the Penguins in February, Alex brings it up because of course he does. 

“I don’t want Pens to go,” Alex says, like it is the easiest thing in the word to say.

“Shut up,” Sidney tells him.

It’s rude. But Alex smiles an overly fond smile and ruffles a hand through Sidney’s hair. Sidney doesn’t understand how Alex can smile after losing zero to two. But then, Sidney doesn’t particularly understand Alex.

“Other cities can’t have you,” Alex says. “Not Winnipeg, not Houston, not Portland, not Oklahoma, not Kansas.”

Sidney frowns.

Alex pushes a shot towards Sidney. Sidney doesn’t want it. But then he doesn’t want to go to any of those cities. He likes Pittsburgh. He missed it while he was away. He hated it when it looked like Jim Balsillie was going to buy the Penguins organisation. When the deal fell through, Sidney had been relieved even though he knew Balsillie was meant to be a lifeline for the team. So far there haven’t been any other serious buyers approach Mario or his ownership group, but everything feels so very tenuous.

“It’s not your job to worry about that,” Steve had told Sidney at the end of their last meeting.

Sidney doesn’t know how to not worry about it. He smiles though when Geno appears and steals the shot Alex bought him. Having spent most of the evening with Ryan and Max, Geno is flushed from dancing. His shirt is sticking to chest and his hair is squished on one side. Sidney can’t help but laugh and it makes Geno smirk.

“Dance Sid?”

Sidney shakes his head. He leaves any and all dancing to Max. Geno should probably do the same given his limited skills.

Alex is delighted. “Do you dance Sid?”

Sidney snorts. “Not with you.”

“Me?” Geno asks.

“No one.”

Alex loops an arm over Sidney’s shoulder. “We dance on the ice.”

Sidney wouldn’t exactly say that, but neither of them listens. Like mirrors of each other, they grin and smirk and laugh at him. Then at the end of the evening, Sidney somehow ends up sharing a taxi with both of them. Crawling into the back seat, Alex slumps against Sidney’s side as he waves goodbye to Geno when they leave him at the Gonchar’s door. It’s about the way most nights with Alex end, however instead of getting dropped off at his team’s hotel, Alex follows Sidney home and crashes on the couch in the living room. In the morning Sidney wakes up to find Alex in the kitchen, eating Austin’s toast and asking for embarrassing stories about Sidney.

Sidney doesn’t quite know how Alex does it. Or anything.

“Don’t be a traitor,” Sidney tells his siblings, which only makes them laugh.

“Sid best,” Austin grins, mimicking Geno.

Sidney decides to steal Austin’s other piece of toast off his plate. Serves him right.

 

 

(For the first few weeks after Sidney arrived, Pittsburgh was a muted landscape to him. Low skies and slush on the street, and April’s long yellow scarf that she would wrap around his next each morning before she dropped him off to school.

At night he would sleep on a cot and listen carefully to the sound of April soft snorting as he drifted off to sleep.

Sometimes he wouldn’t sleep. Sometimes he couldn’t.

 After a while, the deep and dark bruises the seatbelt left across his chest began to fade, but the way his chest would sometimes seize up didn’t.)

 

 

It is not a surprise to anyone when Sidney is chosen to play at the All Stars Game. From Pittsburgh, Evgeni gathers with a dozen or so of the Penguins to watch the spectacle. Over drinks and take away pizza, Evgeni learns from Seryozha that Sidney is sharing a hotel room with Sanja, and from Colby, Evgeni learns that Sanja took Sidney out for drinks and that’s why Sidney fails for score a single point during the first period of the game. Colby laughs loudly when he tells the guys and Evgeni joins in after Sergei explains.  

It’s good to watch the game, Evgeni decides, even if Sidney doesn’t score in the second or third period either. Around him, his teammates are loose and happy. Sergei grins and in a way, Evgeni could be home. It’s a thought that catches him off guard and follows him back to Sergei’s after the game is over and the last bottles of beer are drunk.

A little drunk and coloured outside the lines with an uneven mix of homesick and left over anger he thought he had rid himself of when he flew out of Helsinki, Evgeni closes the door of the Gonchar’s guest room behind him. It’s still early and he knows he should drink some water, maybe eat something. But restless, he ends up fiddling with his American mobile, flicking though contacts he has no idea why he transferred from his Russian mobile and the handful of new contacts of his teammates.

It’s stupid. He knows.

He pauses when he reaches Sidney’s name.

After the game, Sidney and Sanja had been surrounded by journalists. The sight had made some of the guys laugh. Flower had joked about the journalists not knowing who to talk to first. However the real laughs came when Sidney and Sanja named each other as candidates for the M.V.P award when asked. That’s what Seryozha had told Evgeni a beat after all other guys in the room cracked up; his face open and indulgent. Yet now, alone and tipsy, Evgeni remembers how Sidney’s face was flushed and his hair stuck oddly to his head.

Evgeni thinks of texting Sidney; congratulating him, maybe, or teasing him.

The other guys on the team tease Sidney. Evgeni doesn’t understand everything they say, but he recognises the tone they use and the way Sidney lets them. 

Sidney is so serious, so quiet. At practice Evgeni occasionally finds himself watching Sidney, watching his hands, the way he positions himself during drills and scrimmages. It is difficult to compare what he knows of Sidney now, to what expectations Evgeni had of him before. Evgeni watched him; knew of him for so long. He remembers seeing newspaper clippings of Mario Lemieux skating with his adopted son, and of hearing about each and every record Sidney went on to break. Now Evgeni follows him onto the ice each game.

In retrospect, Evgeni didn’t know what he expected. Another Sanja maybe?

Over the summer, Sanja talked of Sidney and told stories about the two of them. Most of them were probably lies or exaggerations, but Evgeni remembers the awe in Sanja’s voice. He is never impressed – even as a child, his head was never turned by anyone. But Sidney was different. Sidney was better than everyone said; fast and smart and although Sanja had never considered Evgeni as any sort of competition, he clearly thought Sidney was and it delighted Sanja.

With his phone still in his hand, Evgeni looks at Sidney’s contact details. It wouldn’t hurt, he thinks, to text him. It would be okay. Sidney texts him sometimes. In the last month, Evgeni has had dinner with the Lemieux’s, and once, with just Sidney. Sidney had driven Evgeni in a nice car to a nice restaurant and had smiled at Evgeni while they ate. Sidney sits with Evgeni sometimes when they review tapes. In the darkness, his eyes trace the movement on screen, oblivious to the outside world, and the light from the overhead projector touch the curls of his dark hair and flicker against his pale skin. Evgeni understands what Sanja meant. Sidney is different; is more than the articles and tapes and talk.

In the end, Evgeni texts Sanja, congratulating him and asking him to congratulate Sidney for him.

That is easier. (Even if isn’t).

 

 

It is a bigger relief than Mario will ever be able to articulate, when he, Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell, Allegheny County Executive Dan Onorato, Pittsburgh Mayor Luke Ravenstahl, are able to reach an agreement keeping the Penguins in Pittsburgh for another thirty years. A new arena will be built, and with the deal, comes certainty. It isn’t going to be an overnight fix. The Penguins are still struggling. The deal though, gives Mario and the board some breathing room. They no longer have to sell the team.

Sidney doesn’t react when Mario tells him. But Mario knows Sidney and can see through the carefully casual way he holds his body and the evenness of his expression.

“You were never going anywhere,” he tells Sidney.

It isn’t quite the truth. They both know that. But Mario still says it because in a way, it is, and Mario wants him to know that.

Mario knew when he first met that dark haired kid all those years ago, that he was theirs. That he was meant to be part of their family. Mario felt so lucky then and he feels so fortunate now.

Sidney was never going anywhere. His home was always with them. The Penguins are one thing, Sidney is another. Where ever he goes in life, he’ll always have a place with them.

It’s been a long year – a long season.

Sidney took to being team captain, as Mario knew he would. Although it hasn’t been the Penguins best, it is far from their worst. Maybe that too, helped. Sometimes while Mario was still playing, Sidney felt so far away from him. On the ice, there were moments where Mario couldn’t see his kid when he looked at Sidney. He might have been the A to Mario’s C, but at times Sidney’s eyes were unreadable and the way he held himself often felt like he held himself apart. There are still moments like that now, but wearing the C on his jersey has connected Sidney to his A’s and to his team.

 

 

The season ends with the Penguins making the playoffs, but getting knocked out early.  They do one better than the Capitals though, so that’s something. During the summer, Sidney divides his time between occasionally texting Geno, receiving a barrage of texts and emails and calls from Alex, and training. For two weeks of the off season, Sidney joins Lauren on a summer trip to Yellowstone National Park where they go hiking with some of her friends from college.

Sidney was always closest to Lauren but hockey has always left Sidney short on time. Although being drafted by the Penguins brought him home, they hadn’t had the chance to spend as much time with each other especially since she started college. Still thoughtful and inquisitive, the year away from home has made Lauren certain that Pittsburgh is her home. Out on the trails, she confides to Sidney about her desire to devote her time and energy to helping others and her interest in taking an active role in the Lemieux Foundation. She’s young; they both are. But it’s clear to Sidney that Lauren has been thinking about this for a while now.

Yellowstone’s peaceful and unexpectedly enjoyable.

There are no cameras or journalists, and no one recognises either of them; a fact which amuses Lauren’s friends who make more than one joke at their expense. Lauren plays it off, but Sidney can tell she’s grateful for the reprieve too, especially given how Sidney’s contract extension is in the process of being cleared by the league. 

“I knew it was going to have to go through the NHL's Board of Governors,” Sidney confides in her while they wait for everyone else to wake up.

It’s still annoying, and complicated. What should have been about negotiating how many years the new contract would cover and monetary figures instead was about the NHL's Board of Governors making a show of being the ultimate and unbiased authority in the NHL. All they do in actuality is delay the negotiations, leaving Sidney feeling rudderless and Mario frustrated. There isn’t anywhere else Sidney wants to be; he’s a Penguin for however long they want him. He doesn’t need the Board of Governors to complicate that.

Lauren nods when Sidney says as much. It was pretty much a given that when it came to Sidney, is never going to be simple.

In the end Sidney’s new contract isn’t formally approved until right before the start of the new season. Coincidentally, that is right about the time Sidney gets wind of Alex punching Geno’s Russian agent, Gennady Ushakov at a Moscow nightclub. The news comes from Colby who heard from a friend of a friend of an Eastern European friend, which basically means Sidney is the last to know in the entire league.

“Not my fault you don’t keep in contact with your friends,” Colby says, like the asshole he is.  “Got to work on your captaining skills, Cap.”

Sidney grumbles. “They aren’t my friends.”

“Geno is,” Colby says, which Sidney can’t really deny because Geno is Sidney’s friend.

Geno though, has spent the summer sending Sidney smiley faces and photographs of his dog, but did not send a single word about his agent getting into a fight with Alex.

“I’m sure it’s isn’t anything to worry about,” Sidney says.

 

 

(There is.)

 

 

**[2007-2008]**

 

 

The feud which develops between Geno and Alex is annoying. Sidney tells Alex that when he turns up to dinner after the first Pens-Caps game of the pre-season. Alex makes an unimpressed noise and proceeds to ignore Sidney. Sidney is used to that, but he dislikes the exchange of snippy comments in the press, and the way each new insult begets one in return. Geno, despite his three additional years in the pro-league he has on Sidney, is acting like a rookie. Or worse; even the actual rookies on the Pens know better than to act how Geno is. Instead of ignoring Alex, which would have infuriated him, Geno keeps reacting to Alex’s provocation. Each time he responds, Alex gets further under Geno’s skin.

When Sidney tries to speak to Geno about it – because Sidney has to – Geno eyes him dubiously.

“Sanja’s fault,” Geno says as if that explains everything – as if that makes it okay.

Sidney doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that. 

It is irritating. Yet it only gets worse when Alex starts to target Geno on the ice.

It comes to a head when Alex takes a run at Geno during a game. At that moment the feud stops being something bothersome that the sports media is running with, and becomes dangerous. At the very last second, Geno manages to manoeuvre himself out of the way, twisting his body in such a way that Alex glances off him, into the boards. Landing with a thud, the game continues but only until Alex is back on his feet. Then it stops. Or rather, they start fighting. Shoving and pushing, Geno and Alex drop gloves and brawl without any real skill. Soon surrounded by teammates and being told to break it up by the refs, it ends gracelessly. Skating it off, Geno leaves a spitting and swearing Alex in his wake. It’s clearly not over. Not even close if the venom in Alex’s expression is anything to go by.

From up in the box with a high ankle sprain, Sidney watches them. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Beside him, Mario has already turned to speak to Ray. The game itself does not let up. Each minute on the ice is a battle, and the game ends in overtime where the Caps pull out the win. Fuming, Sidney can’t stand the thought of being around either Geno or Alex. If Sidney had a choice, he wouldn’t. However Geno is Sidney’s teammate, so it doesn’t work that way.

In the moments after the game ends, Sidney focuses on his breathing. He still isn’t cleared to be on the ice, but he is expected to go speak to his team before the press are allowed into the locker room. He cannot go down there with clenched fists.

Towards the end of the previous season Geno was made alternate captain. Outside the team, there had been some questions about naming Geno alternate when his English was so limited. Therrien and Sidney had spoken about it in length. For Sidney it wasn’t about Geno’s communications skills. It was about him. No one could doubt Geno’s commitment to hockey or to the Pens.

Tonight though, when Sidney catches Jordan congratulating Geno for getting the better of Alex, Sidney can’t help but look at both of them.

“Silver lining, Sid,” Jordan says, winking like it’s a joke instead of a disgrace.

Sidney doesn’t want to hear it.

 

 

There is a narrative, and then there are side plots, Sanja said over the summer. 

Evgeni doesn’t give a fuck which he and Sanja are. Not now, and not back when they were kids.

(But then he’s always been a liar one way or another).

With Sidney out, people alternate from talking about him and Sanja – the two Titans of Hockey – to write about Sanja and Evgeni. Unlike in Russia, the North America press treat Evgeni as more of a side note than a threat. He is sure the events of the game will give them more fodder. He doubts anything of real note will be published. The game itself could never live up to the hype.

When the Pens get to the bar afterwards, Sanja is there waiting for Evgeni because of course he is. Only he’s not waiting for Evgeni, he’s grinning at Sidney. Evgeni doesn’t know how he convinced Sidney to come out. Sidney still looks furious and even Flower is giving him his space. Sanja is the only one willing to brave Sidney’s ire, seemingly oblivious to his clenched jaw and sharp tone. Upon arrival, he throws an arm around Sidney’s waist and leads him to the bar where a line of colourful shots are waiting.

Three rounds later, Sanja follows Evgeni into the bathroom and bites his lip instead of kissing him.

Evgeni swears, but that only makes Sanja laugh. “Old times’ sake?”

Sanja laughs. Sanja always laughs. Sanja with his American sayings and his transliterated name and the way it’s so easy for him to follow Evgeni and expect him to say yes.

“Got to be fast,” Sanja warns; his lips hot against Evgeni’s neck. “Sid’s at the bar buying the next round.”

No one knows who Sidney is in D.C.

“Then there is no need to rush,” Evgeni corrects him.

Even in Pittsburgh Sidney is pathetic when it came to catching the bartender’s eye. Here? He’ll be waiting until one of the guys eventually take pity on him and leaves their table under the guise of helping him carry the drinks back to the table. Unfortunately none of the guys are charitable, especially when witnessing something as hilarious as Sidney trying to politely wave down a bartender who is ignoring him. That leaves them plenty of time.

Sanja smirks. “Maybe I want it quick. Ever think of that?”

Sanja wants everything all at once. Evgeni knows him too well and it makes him sneer. Fuck Sanja.

“I can do quick.”

Letting himself be pushed and then locked into a stall, Sanja bites Evgeni again; harder this time. He’s doing it to get a reaction, Evgeni knows, but fuck him. Evgeni knots his fingers in Sanja’s hair and pulls, pushing him down to his knees.

“Got me where you want me?” Sanja grins, his hands coming up to pin Evgeni’s hips back against the stall door.

Evgeni doesn’t think anyone has ever managed that. With free hand, he unbuttons his jeans, ignoring Sanja’s huff of a laugh.

“So keen,” Sanja says approvingly.

Evgeni is already half hard when Sanja mouths against the cotton of his boxers and it only takes a few shallow breaths before he is completely hard. There is something lazy about the way Sanja touches him, as if he has all the time in the world to do exactly as he wants. Evgeni can’t stand it. He pulls his boxers down and feeds his cock into Sanja’s mouth. The hot, wet heat of Sanja’s mouth is excruciatingly good and exactly how Evgeni remembered. Languidly suck the crown of Evgeni’s cock, Sanja looks up and meets Evgeni’s eyes. Pulling back, his presses his tongue against Evgeni’s slit. Rolling his hips forwards, Evgeni uses his grip on Sanja’s hair to tilt his head back and forces him to take more. In response, Sanja’s grip on Evgeni’s hips tightens and Evgeni knows he is going to leave bruises. 

It doesn’t take long until Evgeni is panting.

Sanja is so good. He blows Evgeni hot and sloppy and when Evgeni comes, he spits it out on the ground next to Evgeni’s feet and grins proudly. His lips are slick and red and Evgeni is weak kneed and breathless. Still pinned to the door, now it feels more like Sanja is holding Evgeni up and it feels even more like that as Sanja pulls himself to his feet. Moving slow and easy, Sanja fits himself against Evgeni, presses himself along the line of Evgeni’s body. Straining against the acid washed denim of his jeans, Sanja’s cock is so hard when he presses it against the hollow of Evgeni’s bare hip.

“I’m not blowing you,” Evgeni tells him.

“Did I offer to let you?”Sanja asks, delicately kissing the corner of Evgeni’s mouth.

The contrast of that kiss against everything else, throws Evgeni off for a beat. Sanja presses his advance, releasing his hold on Evgeni’s hips and in the corner of his eye, Evgeni watches Sanja unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. Bringing a hand up to Evgeni’s mouth, Sanja orders Evgeni to lick it. Snarling, Evgeni spits instead. Yet that only makes Sanja grin, wickedly.

Completely useless, Evgeni finds himself being kissed as Sanja strokes his own cock and gets himself off.

When Sanja comes, his come splatters across Evgeni’s stomach, staining the edges of his shirt. Collapsing against Evgeni, Sanja pants against Evgeni’s neck, but only for a moment. Gathering himself, he straightens himself out, zipping his jeans back up and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. His hair is a mess, and his mouth looks used, but he kisses Evgeni absently, just a press of lips against Evgeni’s. It’s more half-hearted than gentle and then he’s pushing Evgeni aside and making his way back out to the bar as if nothing had happened. With his own jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs, his sticky cock softening against his thigh and his lips numb, Evgeni is left feeling off balance and angry as he tries to catch his breath.

Fuck Sanja.

Fuck him.

 

 

In March, Sidney is cleared to return to play. The news is greeted with great enthusiasm in the locker room. Evgeni grins when Therrien announces it. With Sidney back in the line-up it feels like no one can touch them. That’s not necessarily true, but Evgeni doesn’t care, not with Sidney grinning at Evgeni as they shake hands and tap helmets before taking the ice. The enthusiasm begins to wane on the road, and there is a certain weariness to the team when they reach NYC. Or at least to Evgeni. Having played the first of the two road games against the Devils the previous night, and with another free day until their game against the Rangers at Madison Square Garden, most of the team is reasonably relaxed when they go out for drinks. So much so, that the sight of Jaromír Jágr turning up and hugging Sidney hello hardly rates a reaction.

“Hey kid,” Jágr says. 

Usually being called ‘kid’ would be enough to have Sidney twitching, but Jágr seems to get away with it. The two of them stay for one drink before heading off for dinner. The bar is noisy, but Evgeni overhears Jágr mention Colby Armstrong’s trade and sees Sidney shrug. Normally when Sidney does that, the guys let whatever they are asking about go, but Jágr doesn’t. Not until Sidney shakes his head and says something quietly that Evgeni can’t decipher.

It’s strange seeing Sidney who is so self-contained, speak to Jágr, of all people, so openly. Or at least Evgeni finds it strange. The other guys don’t seem to. But then a lot of guys come from hockey families and are used to everyone knowing everyone in one way or another. Evgeni himself, comes from a hockey family albeit one not nearly as highly distinguished as Sidney’s. Though honestly, few are.

After one drink, Jágr gets Sidney moving with the promise of dinner. (Sidney leaves his drink unfinished).

“No rookies invited,” Jágr says when Jordan perks up.

“I’m not a rookie,” Jordan complains.

“Close enough.”

Seryozha snorts into his drink. Jágr nods at him and nudges Sidney towards the exit.

“Make sure to bring our captain back in one piece,” Max calls.

Without turning, Jágr gives Talbot the finger. The guys burst into laughter.

Evgeni joins in because he wants to. (Because it’s easier).

This season Evgeni is rooming with Max. So far it has meant Evgeni has watched dozens of American action films and been convinced to participate in far too many of Max’s schemes and gossip. With Armstrong gone, Sidney has started rooming with Flower. So far, it seems to be a reasonable fit given how neurotic they both are.

Evgeni didn’t really get much of a chance to get to know Armstrong. They had played side by side and Colby had been one of a handful of teammates to pick up a few Russian curse words, but even amidst all of Armstrong’s jokes and laugher in the locker room, he and Evgeni had never really managed to get beyond the basics. It had been clear that he and Sidney were close though. In the wake of Armstrong’s trade earlier in the year, they had all closely watched Sidney in the aftermath. For what, Evgeni doesn’t know.  

“He is young,” Seryozha had told Evgeni, like Evgeni should understand.

Evgeni isn’t sure if he does. He probably should. Evgeni has seen teammates come and go in Metallurg. He was one of them, in the end.

Sidney though – for or all the records he has broken and awards he has received, he is young. They all expected it to show. It hasn’t really. This season has been one of the better ones for the Pens. There have still been embarrassing losses, but Sidney has not stumbled once during their games, or during practice. He has been quieter at times, but he has never been the loudest voice on the team so sometimes it takes a while before anyone notices. By then, Sidney is usually smiling faintly at something Flower is saying, or letting Max insult him about the exact way he ties his skates.

Sidney’s a good captain – they all look to him.

A few times during Evgeni’s rookie year, he and Sidney used to have dinner together. As Pittsburgh’s adopted son, there were always people asking for Sidney’s time. A handful of times though, Sidney took him to quiet restaurants and grungy looking diners where no one seemed to care that they were the new Mario and Jaromír. They were places only someone who was from Pittsburgh would know – and that Evgeni had no hope of finding on his own. The one time he tried, he was out with Pavel Datsyuk when he was in town and he managed to get them all turned in circles.

Back then, his life felt so small. Pittsburgh meant the Igloo, Sergei’s home and the occasional night out with teammates where he stayed out too late and drunk too much. Dinner with Sidney was a welcomed departure. It wasn’t like having dinner with one of his friends back home. Unable to confidently read menus, Evgeni usually ordered what Sidney did. Sidney caught on after the first few times, but he never seemed to mind. It was always easy with Sidney. It never seemed to matter with him if it took Evgeni a few tries to find the right words or even when he couldn’t. They always seemed to understand each other. Everything else in Pittsburgh was complicated, but Sidney never was. Not to Evgeni.

After a night out with Sidney, the ache in his chest wasn’t as bad and it was always easier to go home to the empty house he bought after moving out of the Gonchar’s home, get up the following morning and give his all at practice. Even after the most humiliating loss or the worse phone call from home, it was always easier.

It’s been a while since they last did that.

It’s been easier this year. With his English slowly improving, it isn’t so daunting to stray beyond Sergei’s side. Pittsburgh feels familiar now and no longer completely reliant on Sergei, Evgeni has found himself spending more time with Jordan and Max. They’re good fun. Max always knows the best stories and Jordan will believe all of them and both of them seem to understand him more often than not.

Tonight, Evgeni gets caught up in the trouble that is Flower and Max. After the hotel bar, most of the team follows them out into the city. Marc gave Jordan a list of night spots in advance, but his recommendations are broadly rejected by the older guys on the team who take them to a loud and dark bar. Once there they take over a booth and then make everyone else on the team buy them drinks in thanks.

“It’s your responsibility, rookie” Darryl Sydor grins as he relaxes back in the booth.

“Respect your elders, kiddo,” Gary Roberts nods in agreement.

Seryozha grins as he translates both sentiments and adds his drink order to the tally of requests.

Evgeni rolls his eyes and manages to get lost on his way to the bar.

It’s no surprise that in the morning, they’re all a little worse for wear. However the tension Sidney carries in his shoulders is gone, and when they face the Rangers the following day, Sidney laughs when Jágr interrupts his pre-game stretches to chirp at him for being a cheap drunk.

The game comes and goes. Later, Evgeni doesn’t remember much but how Sidney rolled his eyes at Jágr.

 

 

Occasionally Sidney does go out with his team. Usually after wins. It's weird though, especially while Mario was still playing. Mario never went out that often, but Sidney got that people were thrown off by it. It was both easier in some ways when Mario stayed at home, and harder. Being carried home once by Max and Colby after they spent the night feeding him shot after shot was more than enough to embarrass Sidney for a lifetime and it isn't until Geno arrives, one year late, that Sidney does find himself going out more. 

It's Geno who works it out - works out how Sidney isn't great at saying no. 

Except that isn't true. All the guys in the locker room know that in one way or another. Sidney doesn’t fool himself into thinking otherwise.  

Sidney grows up awkwardly. He never quite knows how to act and he quite never figures it out. He’s tried. But he’s never managed it. He grew up wanting to be liked, wanting to be easy rather than complicated. Even with the Lemieux’s it helped to like hockey, it helped to be good - to be very good. 

And he was. Is. 

What he is used to is being loved and hated for hockey. Only being used to something isn't the same as understanding it. Sidney tried. Tries. Sometimes without realising it. When he was young he used to watch the other kids; ones in the group homes and the kids in the foster homes (the ones that were people's kids, not the states). Most were loud, demanding attention but all had an uncanny knack of knowing when it was best to be quiet and keep their head down. 

Nature and nurture and it's easy to say yes and even now, Sidney wouldn't mind being easy, wouldn't mind being the sort of guy that is easy to be around. 

They guys know that, more or less. But it's Geno who uses it, who asks Sidney to come out with them. With him. And when he sees Sidney hesitate, Geno says; ‘Please, Sid,’ and it works every time.

Sidney’s never worked like clockwork before.

Not with Jack, not with Colby, not even with Alex. But then, Alex doesn’t ask. Alex turns up after games, grinning and boasting about how he out-skated Sidney without even working up a sweat and telling Sidney that they are going to celebrate and that’s what they do. It’s what they always do. Sidney should really know better by now, but when it comes to Alex, Sidney doesn’t think anyone does, apart from maybe his mother, Tatyana.

Alex, of course, alternates from being insulted or finding it hilarious that Geno can always get a yes out of Sidney.

It – Sidney likes it.

Even if he doesn’t like the bars and the clubs and the music pressing into him, he likes not being complicated when in every other part of his life, he knows he is.

 

 

Each time Evgeni presses Sidney, he knows he’s asking for more than Sidney wants to give. He doesn't remember acting like this back home. Maybe it's Pittsburgh. Maybe it's who he is in Pittsburgh. Sidney is a good captain. Everyone knows that. Even the critics know it. Back when Evgeni first arrived, Sidney took the time to check in with Evgeni, to spend time with, to help him settle in. Now, a year in, Evgeni is meant to be okay, meant to be fine. But somehow it doesn't seem to count for anything. So inside of rattling around his half furnished home, Evgeni lures Sidney out and sits next to him in the booth with an arm slung around Sidney's shoulders and none of it makes any sense.

"You're playing with fire, man," Flower warns at one point. 

And Evgeni is. 

Sidney is Mario Lemieux's son and there is nothing and no one Mario values more than his family. Mario is Evgeni’s boss. Fuck. Mario is the person standing between Evgeni and being pushed down to the minors, a trade, a deportation order, being blacklisted from the NHL. Fucking Sidney up is paramount to fucking himself over. But Evgeni can't quite stop himself. 

Not quite drunk, but getting there, he tucks his face into the crock of Sidney's neck, lets his lip rest on Sidney's heated skin. 

Evgeni has no idea what he's doing. He doesn’t understand why nothing seems to count if Sidney isn’t there.

Flower’s right. Evgeni is playing with fire.

 

 

A few photographs of Sidney out partying start to circulate, appearing in the sports pages of a few local papers and on one or two blogs. Steve manages to stop it from go anywhere else, though honestly it’s nothing too bad, not really. One of the photographs captures him flushed with a drink in hand. The usual jokes about ‘Sid not being a kid any more’ are told. Sidney’s heard them all before. That would be okay. Only now his siblings are hearing them – they’re seeing those photographs and reading those articles. Their classmates are also seeing them. Just like Sidney’s classmates knew everything about Mario. It’s that knowledge which convinces Sidney to scale back, and he does, for a while at least.

There are still team dinners and the occasional lunch after practice. However when the guys ask about clubs and VIP rooms and ‘ _come on, Sid_ ,’ he smiles and it isn’t a lie but he isn’t saying no to them either. It’s okay. Sidney’s okay. He plays and he practices and he is the Penguins captain even if sometimes he finds himself looking to for Mario in the locker room.

It is okay, until LA. 

It starts as a joke – most things do in hockey. Or maybe it starts with Sidney. Or maybe it doesn’t. The Penguins are on a particularly long road trip. After a win against the Kings, the team all goes out. They’ve been winning consistently, which is always good, and it’s the last game of the trip. They go out to blow off some steam and – there is a girl and she’s pretty and Sidney’s young and he's a star and he's rich and he should be getting laid.

That should be enough.

In the heat of it all with his teammates egging him on, Sidney suddenly feels so unsafe. That more than anything frightens the heck out of him. He’s with his team. They’re his team. They’re his friends. His family. His brothers. Yet inside his chest his heart is so loud and the music feels like it is pressing against him and he should feel safe. He should feel safe with them. But he doesn’t.

Outside the bar, Sidney tries to catch his breath, but he can’t.

He can’t breathe and he can’t stop shaking and the collar of his shirt is tight against his neck and he can’t. He can’t. The LA air is humid and it sticks to his throat and what is he doing? He has no idea.

Somehow he manages to get back to the hotel the Pens are staying. It takes him two tries to make the key card open his room’s door. His hands are clammy and uncoordinated. There is no one there to see. The hallway is quiet and inside his room is dark.

It takes a long time for his heart to stop pounding.

 

 

When they get back to Pittsburgh, Sidney stops. He just. He just stops.

Sidney stops going out with the guys and the guys – Geno – stops asking. It’s like exhaling after holding his breath for so long Sidney forgot he was holding it in the first place.

That’s it. That’s all.

 

 

In the weeks after LA, Evgeni feels foolish. Sidney is his friend. Evgeni doesn't act like this. He isn't the sort of person to do that to his friends, to take more than someone can give. He should apologise. He knows he should, but he doesn’t quite know how. He lets Sidney retreat from him, still his friend but not by Evgeni’s side.

It takes most of what’s left of the season for Sidney to let Evgeni closer.

By the end of the season Evgeni isn’t thinking about that. He can’t think of anything after the Stanley Cup finals. The bitter taste of failure follows him home. In the back of his throat and in his aching body he carries it. He – they – almost had it. They almost touched it. But when it counts, it slips through their fingers.

There is no second chance. There is no coming back from that.

But Evgeni is used to it by now.

 

**[2008-2009]**

 

 

For the last two summers, Lauren interned at the Lemieux Foundation. After she graduates from college, she returns to Pittsburgh to formally take up a position within the foundation. With her home, she and Sidney decide to share an apartment in inner city Pittsburgh. It's a small place; way smaller than either of them could afford. That becomes what the press and the team comment on now, but Sidney's never needed much space. He grew up being used to tucking his elbows against his side and sleeping on single beds. He's never completely managed to grow out of it despite everyone's best efforts. He knows too, that Lauren feels uncomfortable spending too much money.

It’s strange moving out of home and into a high rise building.

Lauren’s workload is often quite heavy.  Most of the time she and Sidney are like two ships passing in the night; living in the same space, but not often there at the same time.  It isn't so bad. Sidney doesn't mind it. He finds himself back home more often than not. Sometimes he honestly forgets. There are days where Sidney finds himself slipping into autopilot and ends up driving through the leafy Sewickley streets when he should already be parking his car in the underground parking lot beneath their building.

Once he’s home, it isn’t unusual to end up staying a handful of nights. Alexa always has stories she wants to tell, and Austin and Stephanie are quick to claim him for a game of street hockey. Or, specifically, to referee their one-on-one game. In the evenings Nathalie has him making the salad and Mario never minds too much if Sidney wants to review game footage with him. 

One night turns into two, turns into the new locker room joke.

“It is kind of funny,” Lauren smiles.

Sidney shrugs. “Kind of.”

Perhaps it is. It’s easy to smile when Flower is making so many people laugh. Flower makes everything funny. Or is it funnier? Sidney isn’t quite sure. It’s hard to know.

Earlier in the week, Flower and Vero invited him over for dinner. Sidney bought wine that was too good for Flower and they had drunk most of it while arguing. At the end of the night they had sent him off in the taxi. On the drive back into the city centre, Sidney found himself drifting off. It’s different this season. Better. It should be too soon to say something like that. It doesn’t, though. It’s naïve. He knows it is, but he does.

“You’re almost as bad as Dad,” Lauren says, when he tells her.

Up late finishing a presentation, the light from the screen of her laptop washes out her face making her look tried and fragile. Grabbing her a fork, Sidney opens up the Tupperware tub of leftovers Vero had sent him off with and pours Lauren a glass of water.

“I’m almost finished,” she complains.

“Then you can take a break,” he tells her. “I promise it will still be ‘almost finished’ after you’ve had dinner.”

Lauren eyes him. “Strike what I said before. You’re exactly like Dad.”

 

 

Quietly, Lauren's been working towards expanding the foundations charter to work not just promoting and funding medical research, but to support children like Sidney. When he has time and whenever Lauren isn't working, they try to organises free hockey clinics just like the one Mario hosted back when Sidney was a scrawny twelve year old. They keep it quiet - no press, no Penguins PR, just a rented rink and the two of them teaching whoever is interested in learning. It's nice. But they don't get to do it nearly as often as they'd like. 

The kids love Sidney.

They listen intently to every word he says, and grin delightedly each time they see him. It’s a wonderful sight each and every time.

Supporting children in need has always been important for her. During the summer before she left for college, she had devoted much of her time and energy helping the Mario Lemieux Foundation set up the first Lemieux Family Center in the Children’s Home of Pittsburgh. Currently she is working on a proposal which will support parents and guardians in need like April. However honestly, Lauren hadn’t realised how important this work was to her until the last few years when Sidney’s past became the main topic of conversations within the media. Their younger siblings don't really remember Sidney not being around. They were so young when their parents brought him home. They're still quite young (Austin isn't at all over Sidney moving out). To them, he's always been their brother, but Lauren remembers the quiet way Sidney was afraid, the way he didn't trust them; the way it took him so long to believe that he was part of the family; that he wasn’t going to be sent away from them.

Much of that detail is lost in the articles written about Sidney. Or appropriated into something else.

Lauren is used to what it meant to be her father’s daughter, but it didn’t prepare her for that it meant to be Sidney’s ‘adopted’ sister.  At the end of the previous season, she had gone to the NHL Awards with him and their parents. Maybe because it was being outside of Pittsburgh and the relatively known quantity that was the local press, but it was jarring to hear Sidney being introduced over and over again as Mario’s ‘adopted’ son. She’s never thought of herself as sheltered, but being there, amidst all the hype and cameras, she felt out of her depth.

In a strange way, it had been a relief when Alex appeared, his suit a little too fitted and his hair slick. The perfect, albeit unexpected distraction, he effortlessly commandeered all of Sidney’s attention. With a camera in hand, he had badgered Sidney with questions, and had beamed at him like Sidney was the most delightful creature he had ever had the luck of stumbling across.

Somehow Alex had managed to drown out every other voice in the room.

“He’s like that,” Sidney had explained later when they were back in their hotel suite and away from the press of bodies and the stream of celebratory liquor.

In the morning Nathalie had nodded when Lauren brought it up. “He’s good for Sidney.”

Sidney doesn’t have a lot of friends – to be honest, most of his friends are Lauren’s friends – but Alex is one of them. That is clear to Lauren now.

To Alex, it is simple; Sidney is Mario’s son. To Lauren, Sidney is her brother. That feels simple to her, but sometimes it isn’t. Sidney doesn't really talk about the group homes or the various foster homes, or the family he had before it all. Their father knows the most. Yet even now, Lauren isn't sure if that is saying much. Sidney carries all his experiences with him. They make him the person he is. The idea of being considered a 'success story' doesn't sit easily with him. Even when he was a teenager making waves in juniors, he wore the constructed narrative of his life like a yoke around his neck.

Not many people know that, or get to see it.

 

 

Once, a few of the younger guys on the team twist Sidney's arm into inviting them over while Lauren is away on a three day business trip. For the most part, the guys on the team like Lauren. Occasionally she attends some of the Penguins PR events and a few times each season she comes to watch practice with Mario. The overwhelming impression Evgeni has gained of her, is someone diligent and quietly confident, though perhaps not someone who would enjoy having her home taken over by a hockey team.

“Her loss,” Jordan says, but he would say that.

Evgeni rolls his eyes. It’s not a secret that Lauren has proven herself to be far too savvy for the majority of them. That’s not hard though when the team consists of guys like Jordan who turned up to Sidney’s place already smelling of beer and wearing jeans he proudly admits he stole from Marc the last time the Penguins were in NYC. Evgeni understands brotherly score settling, but he does not understand why Jordan would want to wear jeans than are too small for him. 

Feeling obnoxious, Evgeni tugs Jordan’s straining waist band. “No pizza for you.”

Jordan punches Evgeni’s arm in retaliation.

The plan for the night is to drink, eat food that isn't on their diet plan, play video games and hope that that will be enough to distract them from the string of embarrassing home losses they have suffered. However it quickly becomes apparent that Sidney's place isn't big enough for all of them. Evgeni spends half the night in the kitchen nursing a beer. 

"God, it's like being back in the minors," Max gripes at one point after banging his knee on the coffee table. "I don't know how you even fit here, Sidney."

He has a point. 

Sidney shrugs. "It's not too bad when it's just me." 

Evgeni isn't sure if he understands that.

Pittsburgh is more familiar now, but there are times where he feels so far away from everything and everything. Since moving out of the Gonchar’s house, Evgeni feels it even more so. He hates being home alone. With Oksana back home in Magnitogorsk and his parents in between visits, the quiet often becomes far too much for him. It's far easier to go out night after night. Evgeni isn't Sanja, but some weeks there isn't much of a difference. 

Over time, instead of Alex dragging Sidney out, Alex starts turning up at Sidney’s door and inviting himself for family dinners at the Lemieux home while he and the Capitals are in town. Alex’s season so far has been mixed. On the ice he has been practically unstoppable, but off the ice Sidney knows that Alex’s grandfather has been quite unwell. At the start of the season Alex flew back to Moscow for a few days only to return exhausted and quiet. It had been disquieting and Sidney is glad when Alex arrives in Pittsburgh lit with success. 

At dinner Mario brings out champagne to celebrate Alex’s two hundredth goal that he scored against the LA Kings earlier in the month. It was a milestone that only three other players had reached within their first four seasons. Sidney is not one of them, as Alex kindly reminds him.

“You still have time,” Alex tells Sidney after Mario makes his toast. “You can join me and Mario too. Maybe. Your slap shot needs work though.”

Sidney decides to take a sip of champagne rather than reply to that statement. It’s safer.

Alex grins though, bright and delighted with himself.

After dinner they take the dogs for a walk around the neighbourhood.    

“You and me,” Alex says, smiling.

Sidney rolls his eyes. “What about you and Geno?”

Alex makes a face.

Geno and Alex still aren’t on speaking terms. _Still._ Sidney knows some of their other mutual friends have spoken to them about it given the Vancouver Winter Olympics are coming up soon. The pressure of creating a sense of team unity is mounting. Though as of yet, no one has had any success in talking sense into them. Not even the Penguins PR team have managed to curtail Geno from making inflammatory remarks. Thankfully Alex has stopped replying to most of them, at least publicly.

“Don’t worry,” Alex tells Sidney flippantly. “I will forgive Zhenya before the Olympics.”

His promise is accompanied by a patronising smile, and delivered in an egotistical manner than is unique to Alex. It’s an awful act and it is an act, Sidney thinks. Sidney shoves him a little, but that only makes Alex loop an arm over Sidney’s shoulder and bring him close. Still dressed in his game suit, Alex smells of wine, sweat and too much cologne.

“Or maybe you want us to fight? That way you have advantage.”

“We won’t need one,” Sidney retorts, before realising just what he’s saying. “That is, if I get selected to play for Canada.”

Alex snorts. “You will play.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You play, I play.”

It’s too early to talk about the Vancouver games. It makes Sidney feel like he is tempting fate. He says as much and it makes Alex smile at him so fondly. It’s terrible.

Sidney doesn’t know when they became friends.

“Best friends,” Alex corrects with an awfully found smile.

Sidney makes a face. “A best friend wouldn’t let Semin say shit about me.”

“Sasha loves you.”

Alexander Semin thinks Sidney is overrated and possibly other less than flattering things. In Semin’s defence, he has his reasons. The last time Sidney was in D.C, Alex had taken Sidney to Semin’s place for dinner with his family. Sidney had not been invited. Neither had Alex. Semin’s parents seemed to be used to Alex and his antics. Sidney however, hadn’t been quite as welcomed. It had been one of the most awkward nights in Sidney’s memory.

Alex, of course, remembers it differently, but he would.

 

 

By March, Alex has scored his fiftieth goal of the season, which he gleefully tells Sidney all about; laughing and maybe a little punch drunk. People have been saying all kinds of things about him this season. Don Cherry openly criticised Alex, calling him a bad example for Canadian children. Yet on the phone, Alex sounds like nothing can touch him. Sidney can’t help but get caught up it. Alex’s happiness is always infectious in one way or another and even Mario ends up sending him a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

In Alex exuberance, he must let down his guard as shortly afterwards the feud or fight or whatever it is between Geno and Alex eventually is resolved. Sergei, in particular, seems quite pleased with himself, though he will not admit to anything when Max and Jordan press him for details.

With Geno seemingly at peace with Alex, Sidney’s interactions with the press are now a little less eventful. It is not much of a comfort. The closeness Geno and Alex once shared is lost. They are civil though. Perhaps that is enough. Sidney does not know. There isn’t much time to think about anything other than the next game. He can feel the season building around the Penguins. He can’t remember what it felt like last year. Only that this feels different.

He finds himself thinking of his father and Jaromír.

Their relationship is a bit of an unknown, even to Sidney. They too are mostly civil now, however more than one reporter has brought up the various less than civil comments each made about the other over the years. As if making up for how hard Nathalie and Mario worked to keep any feelings of animosity away from him and his siblings, the press like to repeat decade old quotes to Sidney to gauge his reaction. Comments can be taken out of context though, can be twisted. What Sidney remembers is how Jaromír seemed to disappear after Mario traded him – and how Sidney had not let himself feel anything.

Only Jaromír didn’t disappear.

It took some time but whenever he was in Pittsburgh, or one of Sidney’s school or juniors road trips overlapped with his, Jaromír would make a point of catching up. For all the talk of a feud, a few days after Jaromír had made Sidney tell him about how he was struggling in geometry or how the parents at away games would scream insults at him, Mario and Nathalie would know.

Over the last few years it’s become a tradition for Sidney to spent part of his summer training in the Czech Republic with Jaromír. For all that it is easy training with Jack, the weeks Sidney spends in Kladno are the most productive. Jaromír doesn’t just push Sidney to reach beyond his limits, Jaromír knows Sidney’s limits – he knows Sidney. In Kladno, Sidney sleeps. Sometimes all the way through the night, other times he and Jaromír play cards and watch late night TV.

Maybe it’s the same with Geno and Alex.

For all that they are fighting with each other, they are his friends. Geno will stay after practice to help Sidney work on his timing, or occasionally he will convince Sidney not to stay late after practice but instead to follow him home for a video game tournament. Alex in turn, is a constant. Enthusiastic and full of life, he is fixture in Sidney and his family’s life. Yet as much as Sidney is able to see and have that with Alex and Geno, he also witnesses the vitriol and childishness of their spiralling feud. Maybe that is what the journalists want him to acknowledge when they ask him about Mario and Jaromír. It’s hard to know. Sidney doesn’t know how to reduce people down to a tweet worthy 140 characters. He is simultaneously in the middle and outside of it all. 

When the Penguins play the Capitals in the second round of the playoffs, it’s a crush of questions and answers which don’t satisfy. Alex is still Alex though, and Sidney holds onto that. They both want to win. For the first two games, the Caps do. Then the Pens win the next three. The series gets pushed out after the Caps tie the score 3-3. When it comes down to the wire, the Pens win the final game of the series.

After – during the series even – they are still them. There are photographs of tense handshakes, and of victory and defeat. But they are still them. It isn’t something people write articles about, but it’s true.

On the ice, when the Caps and Pens line up to shake hands, Alex grips Sidney’s hand so tightly when they reach each other.

“Win Stanley Cup,” he orders.

Sidney – he nods.

It feels like a frightening promise to make to anyone, but of everything Alex could say or ask, he demands this and Sidney can’t do anything but agree to it.

When the conference finals begin, those articles stop. The Caps are forgotten in favour of the Hurricanes, but after only four games, the Pens win the series. None of that matters though. Not when for the second year in a row, the Pens face off against the Red Wings in the Stanley Cup finals. 

 

 

Then. Then. Then. Sidney doesn’t have a chance to look backwards.

(That is a lie. That is the truth.)

 

 

When the Penguins win the Stanley Cup, Sidney can’t quite breathe. He blinks and he is on the ice and his father is hugging him and Lauren is crying. The black, white and yellow glitter on her face is smudged. Austin and Alexa are working their way across the ice with Nathalie and April, slipping and sliding in their haste to reach Sidney.

It is that picture, the one of Mario and Sidney which is splashed across the front page of newspapers the following day.

The following days are a haze of liquor and happiness. Sidney doesn’t sleep and doesn’t stop. He remembers moments; Mario’s hand on his shoulder, Lauren cheering Max on as he dances on tables, confetti from the tickertape parade in April’s hair, Geno’s skin hot and sweaty under his hand in the tangle of clubs and VIP areas, and the cool wash of water at the pool party Mario and Nathalie host. The summer slides into days of interviews and promotional work. His teammates slowly leave town, one after the other. Each have their day with the cup. Sidney’s is surreal and far too short.

When he finally makes it out of Pittsburgh, Jaromír hugs him and then makes him buy dinner.

“So you don’t get full of yourself,” Jaromír smirks after he orders the largest steak on the menu.

 

 

**[2009-2010]**

 

After catching up with Jaromír, Sidney manages a week or so back with his family and one with Jack before Steve and the Pens PR team monopolise his time with promotional work. It seems to never end. Every now and then Sidney makes an effort to check in with Geno. After a faltering phone call, they end up exchanging texts instead. Distance makes him harder to read. Alex tells Sidney not to worry, but Alex would. Alex, as he doesn’t hesitate to tell Sidney, is having an outstanding summer. To Sidney, the photographs of Alex looking sunburnt and stupid mostly make it look like Alex is having an overly indulgent summer full of boating trips, nights on the town, and cigars. But each to their own.

“You should be here,” Alex says. “You would like it.”

Sidney isn’t so sure, but that’s not the point. Not with Alex.

According to Alex, Geno is well.

“Fighting with Oksana, but well,” Alex allows.

Geno and Oksana have been on and off, and on and off for as long as Sidney has known Geno.Though, the more Sidney gets to know Geno, the less Sidney understands. But then, how would he know? On the outside, Sidney sees nothing really, only Geno’s frustration when he and Oksana fight, his optimism whenever when they get back together and sometimes Sidney sees her weariness when she has been in Pittsburgh for too long. But not often. Much like Jaromír, she wears her heart out of sight and out of mind.

For what it’s worth, Sidney likes Oksana; likes the way she captures and holds people’s attention, and the confidence in which she carries herself. There is an undeniable strength to her, and it is clear Geno means a great deal to her. However Sidney isn’t foolish enough to think his opinion means all that much.

“I like Oksana too,” Alex agrees. “But I like you more.”

Sidney snorts.

“It is true!” Alex exclaims, sounding very insulted. It’s put upon, but of course it is with Alex.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sidney allows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex mimics. “No respect.”

“None,” Sidney confirms. “When are you back?”

The pre-season can’t come soon enough for Sidney. When he returns to Pittsburgh for training camp he feels fit and healthy and impatient for it to begin. Geno turns up at the last minute. Flying in the day before it beings, he arrives on the first day looking jet lagged and with a beanie pulled low over his head. The sight of him bedraggled and exhausted makes the guys grin.

“Man, look what the cat dragged in,” Max’s drawls.

“Fuck you Talbo,” Geno says without missing a beat.

Sidney grins at him and Geno smiles back at him.

On the ice, Geno bickers with the guys, teasing all who can’t quite keep up with him. Few can. Geno’s summer training program produced impressive results. Sidney ends up staying far too late on the first day just to get the chance to spend some time on the ice with him. They’re both being stupid. The forthcoming season stretches out before them, yet they are the last on the ice trying to out skate each other like kids. Dan warns them against wearing out their legs just to one up each other, but neither of them listens.

“Five more minutes,” Dan tells them. “No more than that.”

The warning makes Geno grin, bright and infectious. “Yes, yeah, promise.”  

Sidney can’t help but grin too.

“It’s good to be back,” Sidney finds himself saying, because it is.

The off season is always too long for him, even after a long playoff run.

 

 

In November, a good proportion of the Penguin organisation gathers in the media room to watch Sidney carry the Olympic torch on the large screens. It’s a touch surreal watching Sidney run in Nova Scotia. Bundled up in official Vancouver Olympic gear, he moves with a certain uneven grace amidst the huge production surrounding him. He’s different off the ice. Evgeni doesn’t quite recognise him.

Sidney was born there. That is what Evgeni knows. That is what the pre-prepared footage of Halifax tells him.

(There is so much Evgeni knows – that everyone knows – that Sidney never told him.)

There are parts of Sidney that Evgeni knows so well, but the idea of Sidney being from two places feels like something unknowable to Evgeni when he feels so deeply rooted to one. Despite everything that has happened and all that has been said and written, Magnitogorsk is his home and Russia his is homeland. That will never change. When Sidney gets back, Evgeni finds himself trying to understand why it is different for Sidney. Sidney has played for Canada, but even now, even as a member of the Canadian Olympic men’s hockey team, he feels more a Penguin to Evgeni than anything else. It isn’t something he can say to anyone. There is so much distance in Evgeni’s life. Sometimes he feels splintered in to pieces scattered across the world. His life stop starts, depending on where he is. In Pittsburgh, he finds himself drawing closer to Sidney and the comfort his friendship offers. There is something uncomplicated about him, and the way he lets Evgeni into his space.

On his free day he finds himself inviting himself over to Sidney’s apartment.

Even without the majority of the team there taking up space, it’s still too small. Evgeni doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like how Sidney makes himself fit into it.

“You should get a house like mine,” Evgeni tells him, because Sidney should.

Something large and private with lush green lawns and enough space for Sidney to unfold himself out to his full height.

Sidney shrugs. “What would I do with a house like yours?”

Evgeni thinks maybe Sidney might stay there. It’s a well use punch line. He thinks it could be true though. However he knows better than to say something like that aloud.

It’s different, being alone with Sidney.

There is a practiced professionalism to Sidney in the locker room. Evgeni respects that, but he likes this side of Sidney too. Away from the responsibilities of captain and of being ‘Sidney Lemieux the face of the NHL’, Sidney is relaxed. He smiles easily at Evgeni, and it isn’t difficult to get him to laugh. It almost feels like Evgeni belongs here, in Sidney’s kitchen watching Sidney fuss around as he makes them some tea.  It’s easy to stay for longer than Evgeni intended. Though what Evgeni intended, he does not quite know. With no one there but them, he finds himself losing track of time. It’s late in the afternoon when he finally leaves. Evgeni thinks he could stay. He thinks Sidney would let him, but Evgeni isn’t sure if he wants that.

 

 

Towards the end of the year, Lauren gets serious with her boyfriend - serious enough that, according to Sidney, they have started talking about moving in with each other. When the team finds out, Duper and Max laugh and laugh and laugh. At this point, it’s pretty much taken as a given that Sidney will move back home rather than find his own place. 

"You missed your window, G," Duper tells him. 

Evgeni makes a face. 

But they're kind of right. It's one thing inviting himself over to Sidney's stupidly small apartment and maybe sitting too close next to him on the couch and imagine himself being someone else, someone charming and clever and brave; someone Sidney would look at with intention. It's another to try anything with Sidney living under Mario's roof.  

"Maybe he will buy a place," Evgeni says, but that only makes the guys laugh louder. 

"Yeah right," Max says. "And maybe Mario will trade Sidney to the Flyers for Giroux." 

Evgeni makes a face.

Max knew Sidney before they were Penguins. They have been friends for a long time now. Their friendship isn’t unusual. A lot of players come into contact with each other as they make their way up the ranks. Players run into each other at clinics and tournaments, meet each other through the various teams they play for, and through friends of friends of friends. The hockey world is only so large.

Sometimes Max tells stories of when he and Sidney were teenagers. Most of them are awful stories which make are intended to work Sidney up into an embarrassed, spluttering rage. There are some though, about how good and kind and honest Sidney is.

“He was always different,” Max said one time.

Evgeni knows what he means.

Right from the very beginning, Sanja had people paying him attention. Evgeni doesn’t remember when he initially become aware of Sanja, just how he always knew there was someone to keep up with. Sidney though – he just turned up one day. No one had ever heard of him before the Lemieux's adopted him (then everyone knew everything about him, all at once).

It’s been a few years now, but Evgeni still remembers that first night in Pittsburgh and how it felt to have all of Sidney’s attention focused just on him. He and his entire family made Evgeni feel so welcome in those early days. So far away from home and with the threat of perhaps not being able to ever return, they had offered comfort in a way Evgeni doesn’t know how to articulate even now. It was genuine and it was offered freely with no expectations or caveats to it. That has not changed. Not really. Not even now, when it perhaps should have.  

There is a difference between what Evgeni knew and what he knows. Then, when Evgeni was a child, Sidney was on Evgeni’s distant horizon; this brilliant natural talent who could do things Evgeni couldn’t even imagine. Now, Evgeni is sitting in his apartment, watching him make tea.

Sometimes Evgeni wants to be different. Not to spend so much time chasing, restless and desperate; to be content. Sometimes the idea of that, is what terrifies him.

“This time last year,” he says, for no real reason.

Sidney turns a little. “Yeah?”

Evgeni doesn’t know what to say. He shrugs.

“We’re good,” Sidney says, perhaps sensing Evgeni’s discomfort.

Evgeni ducks his head. The team, or them? He doesn’t not know. Both. Neither. It is sometimes difficult to know with Sidney. Maybe it’s better not to know. 

 

 

(For as long as Evgeni can remember, he has had to work to get people's attention and to keep it.

He thinks that’s where it started.)

 

 

This year is different, will be different, Evgeni thinks. Tells himself. Or is told.

It’s difficult to concentrate though. Time moves in games and practices, but also in international training camps and speculation. Evgeni is part of two teams, and always is reminded of that. In the locker room his teammates are his competitors, he is told jokingly by reporters. Only it isn’t quite a joke. Evgeni laughs though. He shakes his head and laughs. At first he tried to explain that it wasn’t like that. That his teammates were his teammates. He had stopped though. No one listened.

So Evgeni copies Flower. When they ask him about Vancouver, he laughs. He laughs and shakes his head. Flower is funny. People expected a joke from him. Evgeni isn’t sure what people expect from him, only that they always expect something even now, even after he won the Stanley Cup, won it and brought it home. There are photographs to prove it. For all the work and sacrifices and close but not good enough results, he had did it. He did it. He made it. He is living the dream.

It’s funny. Because he is. He is living out his childhood dreams.

Only he is still proving himself, still making sacrifices. Maybe it was naïve of him, but he thought once he reached the NHL that would stop. That he could stop, and be satisfied. He can’t and he isn’t. He wonders if that is why Oksana doesn’t come to Pittsburgh. Or if it is why she doesn’t stay. She has always seen right through him.

“It’s not hard,” she had said once.

Then, he had been left breathless. Then, that had made him want to kiss her. He thinks he did. Sanja would have, if he had been in Evgeni’s shoes. Sanja isn’t one to hesitate when it comes to what he wants and Evgeni always wanted Oksana. That was never really the problem, even when it should have been. He just wanted hockey more. He still wants it more than anything.

The sacrifices don’t stop. But the bad habits don’t either. In Magnitogorsk, he spent an entire summer being congratulated. In Pittsburgh, he is someone else. Someone who is proven. Someone who would be captain if he was on any another team. Someone who has a second home town. Someone who _is_ home. He might be.

His house is too quiet. He closes doors and has the volume one dial too high.

He chose this. No one else but him.

 

 

For all the teasing and taunting that Alex partakes in in the lead up to Sidney flying out to meet up with the Olympic torch relay, the footage of Sidney running in Nova Scotia takes Alex aback. Strong and sure, Sidney glows with happiness. The ceremony and the highly produced nature of the event takes away some of the spontaneity the moment could have had, but even then Sidney looks so happy. Surrounded by security, and an immense crowd of onlookers, Sidney moves without hesitation. He is always going to remember this moment, Alex realises as he watches.

When they catch up with each other in person, Sidney still hasn’t quite processed it.

He shakes his head when Alex buys the first round.

“To celebrate,” Alex insists. “You can pay me back in four years.”

This makes Sidney grin. “Okay. Okay, that’s a promise.”

Alex likes the sound of that.

There was a score and a winner and a loser an hour or so again. Now there is Alex catching the eye of a bartender and ordering Sidney something expensive. He won’t appreciate it at all, but Alex doesn’t particularly care. Feeling generous, at the last minute Alex buys Zhenya and Sasha a glass too. They do appreciate it, but only Zhenya says so. He would though, even though it is clear that he doesn’t particularly want to. His mother and father brought him up too well.

The two of them are friendly more than they are friends, if Alex is honest, but tonight he doesn’t want to be. Not really, not when Sidney is flushed and bright and is leaning against Alex before the night is half way started. It feels a little like they are all on the verge of something huge – the count down for the games makes Alex feel restless, his excitement buzzing underneath his skin and humming through his veins. It’s going to be like nothing anyone has ever seen before.

“Russia first,” Alex reminds Zhenya at the end of the night while they are squeezed either side of Sidney in a taxi cab on route to Sidney’s horrible, dingy apartment.

Zhenya snorts.

Alex leans his head back and grins, because Zhenya is too easy, even now. “Sid will be the enemy in Vancouver, not me.”

Half asleep, Sidney mutters something indistinct into Alex’s shoulder. Alex shushes him. Zhenya twitches in annoyance.

 

 

The Winter Olympics themselves feel bigger than anything Sidney has ever been a part of before. It’s all old hat for Alex, as he happily tells Sidney when they all meet up with each. But there is an A on both of their jerseys and even Alex, for all his ego, has never been one to be jaded about things like that. Their enthusiasm, however, does not come close to matching Jack’s.

Geno smiles and shakes his head a little when Sidney tells him about how Jack chartered a private flight so he could attend the opening ceremonies. Dressed in his official team uniform, Geno stands out in a way Sidney isn’t used to. It isn’t new though – neither is the reality of playing against him. Now though, Sidney allows himself to smile back at Geno because that has always felt like second nature. On the rink, Team Canada is finishing up the on ice portion of practice, and in the stands there is a mixed presence of press and officials. Sidney tries not to let it bother him.

“Team spirit is important,” Geno nods, his eyes bright with sly amusement.

Alex snorts.

Sidney supposes neither of them should talk.

Later, Flower and Sidney end up camping out in their team apartment pretending not to feel the weight of their team uniform. Before they had left Pittsburgh, the Pens who were competing at the games had talked about meeting up for dinner, or breakfast. Here and now, it is difficult to make plans. Flower was even having trouble meeting up with Vero; the team scheduled that tight and unrelenting. 

It’s different on this side of things. Everything seems heightened. Sidney finds himself sticking close to the people he knows, and to his family. They ground him in a way Sidney doesn’t know how to articulate, but Mario understands. It’s a stupid realisation to have given the amount of articles written on that very subject, but it’s true. Jaromír laughs when Sidney somehow ends up confiding in him.

 “Come on Kid, don’t make it too easy for me,” he says with an easy grin.

With sleep evading both of them, they have taken over a corner of one of the common rooms. Deck of cards in hand, and a half empty bottle of water by his side, Jaromír shakes his head a little. Sidney shrugs. He can’t help it. Lauren had laughed too, though not as loudly or as long. It’s difficult to know sometimes, if she has as much distance from the circus that is Pittsburgh as he hopes she does. Probably not. He liked it when she laughed, even though it was at him.

It’s been months now, but Sidney still thinks of the first few moments after the Pens won the Stanley Cup and the way nothing came close to the way it felt to look at Mario and know that they did it, that they brought the cup back to Pittsburgh.

Sidney has always wanted to win – competing at Vancouver feels surreal though. It all feels surreal here, even playing gin rummy with Jaromír.

“Were you playing cards with Mario eight years ago?” Sidney finds himself asking.

Jaromír eyes Sidney, because he knows Sidney too well. “Yes. I was winning back then too.”

Sidney makes a face, but it’s true. When it comes to the Penguins, Sidney routinely wipes the floor with them, no matter what game they are playing. With Jaromír, Sidney is lucky to break even. Sidney should probably fold now. He has an average hand at best and it is clear that Jaromír knows it. The night stretches out in front of them. Sidney doesn’t want to think about the morning, or the days ahead.

“Mario hasn’t stopped talking about you since the day he first meet you,” Jaromír tells him after a beat.  “It’s not about watching you win, it’s about seeing you play.”

Sidney pauses, his eyes fixed on the cards in his hand.

“It doesn’t matter what people write,” Jaromír says. “It’s just shit that sells.”

Sighing, Jaromír reaches across the table and grabs the cards from Sidney’s grasp and folds for him. Sidney lets him.

“Another round?” Sidney asks.

“Why not?” Jaromír allows, shuffling the cards. “You’re not broke yet.”

 

 

Sidney knows Jaromír’s right. (Jaromír is always right in one way or another). 

Somehow the knowledge allows for Sidney to sleep through most of the night again.

The room is strange, Shea Weber’s snorting and the sounds through the walls are unfamiliar, but Sidney sleeps and in the morning he plays.

Around him the world unfolds as it was always going to.

 

 

Tentatively, in the midst of everything going on in Vancouver, Evgeni and Oksana somehow find themselves together. Time is short, but what free time Evgeni does have, he spends with her. So much has changed since he first met her, but he doesn’t think they have. There is something about her, something beguiling and clever and he can’t look away. With her, he feels like things make sense, like he makes sense. He tries to hold on to that feeling through the win against Latvia, and even after losing to Slovakia. In the stands, they sit together and watch a mix of events and for a little while he is the sort of person he wants to be. He plays his best hockey and he is with Oksana. Everything is in its rightful place. In their third game against the Czech Republic, they pull out a win. Evgeni thinks he can do this, they can do this. Everything feels within their grasp.

“You are naive,” Sasha says, after the quarter finals when the Russian team leave the ice in disgrace.

In that moment, Evgeni hates him. His skin is stained with Sanja’s tears and Evgeni hates Sasha for saying it.

In their team apartment, Sanja disappears into his room like a crumple shadow. Evgeni does not watch him go. He could follow. He knows he could follow. There was no sound of Sanja’s door closing, no sound of Sanja shutting himself away from Evgeni too.

Evgeni knows Sanja.

Evgeni knows his hands and his sly mouth and how easy Sanja can make things look. The weight of his body against Evgeni’s had been the only thing that had anchored Evgeni on the drive back to the Olympic village. But it had felt wrong. The wrong size; not nearly big enough for Sanja. Sanja does not know loss. Not like Evgeni does. Sanja is made for triumph and laurel wreaths and being remembered.

Sanja’s door is open and perhaps Sanja does not know disappointment, but Evgeni does.

 

 

When Evgeni gets back to Pittsburgh it’s unsettling how the season seems ready to continue as if nothing happened. His house smells stale and his Pens gear is by the door waiting for him. At his first practice, Bylsma makes it clear to all of them that the focus is now on Pens hockey. The games are over. (The games are to be forgotten). He did not need to say anything. No one mentions Vancouver, not even once. Sidney’s gold medal never makes an appearance in the locker room. Evgeni does not know where it is. When Sidney invites him over, Evgeni does not see it in Sidney’s apartment. Maybe Mario has it. Maybe it is framed and displayed next to one of Mario’s many awards. Evgeni doesn’t know.

Oksana calls. He answers. They make plans. They make promises. Rinse and repeat.

There isn’t a break up as such, but maybe it’s difficult to tell the difference at this point. Oksana doesn’t call it one, but she does leave Pittsburgh. Evgeni drives her to the airport and they kiss at the gate and it isn’t a break up but who is counting at this point? Maybe he is selfish. It’s difficult to know. He keeps going rather than trying to figure it out. He works and he plays and he does his job, because that’s why he’s in Pittsburgh, it’s what he left home for.

The Penguins make the playoffs and Evgeni decides that if he can’t have gold, he wants the cup, wants the weight of it in his hands again. Only later he realises how Sasha was right. Evgeni is naïve. Everyone wants the cup and when push comes to shove, he can’t have that either. Where Sidney and the guys come through time and time again, Evgeni only manages one goal in the series against the Montreal Canadiens and it’s not when it counts, not when the Pens need it.

It’s late when Evgeni finally gets home from Montreal. Before he had left the plane, Bylsma had pulled him aside and advised him to let it go, just let the series go now it was over. Like it is that simple, like the two months of emotionally and physically exhausting competition between and against his friends didn’t happen. He thinks of Sanja, and what he had said in Vancouver and Evgeni –

He wants to talk to Sidney, because Sidney –

Because Sidney.

Evgeni goes up to the Lemieux's and finds Sidney in the pool swimming. It’s clear that he can't sleep either. He’s a pale figure in the lit pool; all angles and precision as he cuts through the water. His body streamline and exacting in the glittering, glinting water. He’s so focused, he doesn’t notice Evgeni’s presence until Evgeni is kneeling by the edge of the pool.

“Geno?”

“Hey Sid,” Evgeni says.

Then Evgeni doesn’t know. Sidney’s swimming in a pair of boxers, as if he left his bed in the middle of the night just like Evgeni did, unable to stay there, his body thrumming with the same strange restless energy that plagues Evgeni. His shoulders are broad, his back defined and strong. The elastic of Sidney’s boxers is slipping, and they’re riding low on his hips. The fabric floats, loose and delicate around Sidney’s thighs, and when Sidney pulls himself up out of the water, it sticks to him like a second skin.

The main house is dark and Evgeni feels stupid and reckless.

He didn’t do anything good in the last two weeks (he didn’t do anything good since last season). He scored goals but he didn’t do anything that mattered; didn’t reach deep when the team needed him to come through. Sidney is looking at Evgeni, concern in his eyes. Sidney, who shook hands with the triumphant Canadiens and made it look so terribly easy; like it didn’t even touch him, like he could walk away from the series unchanged.

Sidney’s hair is wet and looks shockingly dark against his pale skin.

And Evgeni wants.

He – he leans down and presses his mouth against Sidney’s. He places a hand on Sidney’s hip, touches his skin and feels it goose-pimple under his fingertips. Sidney whimpers, makes this small sound and Evgeni wants everything, anything, whatever he can get. They fuck in the pool house, Evgeni peels off Sidney’s boxers and then Sidney is naked under him. Beautiful in all odd angles and shadows, Sidney sobs when Evgeni bites and kisses his skin and sucks his cock. He is gorgeously responsive and comes quick and dirty for Evgeni.

Evgeni sucks him through it until Sidney is shaking, his cock sensitive and nerves shot.

Inside his jeans, Evgeni’s cock presses painfully against his zipper. Breath short and heart so loud Evgeni can hardly hear Sidney speak, his voice is shot as he stumbles over words, over Evgeni’s name. Sprawled out, lax and used, Sidney reaches for Evgeni, his fingers clumsy as he tangles one hand in Evgeni’s hair and the other reaching for Evgeni’s belt.

Evgeni doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what he did. Only he does. He lost the Stanley Cup and fucked his best friend. And, and, and –

Evgeni can’t stay.

Evgeni runs.

 

 

(Evgeni always runs. Sanja was right about that.)

 

**[2010-2011]**

 

 

Although the pre-season is underway, the Capital’s and the Penguin’s aren’t scheduled to play each other until December. Luckily with both teams playing the Blue Jackets within two days of each other, they’re more or less in the same place at the same time. Meeting up for drinks isn’t difficult to arrange. It’s too early to tell how the season will pan out. The Caps managed to beat the Blue Jackets easily. Alex thinks the Pens will too considering how easy they made their home opener 5-1 win against the Red Wings look. They know it too. Alex can deal with ego though. What he can’t deal with is Zhenya laughing so loudly when they all go out, drinking everything placed in front of him and talking to everyone but Sidney. It’s – Alex doesn’t know what it is. It’s not about the game, that’s clear.

When he briefly caught up with Zhenya in Moscow during the summer, Zhenya carried the same sense of frustration he always seemed to bring with him after a loss. It was perhaps a little more pronounced, but Alex hasn’t cared enough to think anything of it. Zhenya was not the only one to leave Vancouver without a gold medal. The games cleaved Alex’s heart open, though Alex doubted Zhenya could see beyond himself to recognise that in another.

At one point, Alex overheard Zhenya mention the Penguins failed Stanley Cup run.

Alex supposes it was disappointing when the Pens were knocked out of the playoffs by the Canadiens. It was more disappointing though that the Caps had been knocked out by the Caunucks in the quarter finals. 2009-2010 was meant to be the Capitals season. Everyone said so. Everything had fallen into place. They had never been stronger.

One cannot have everything; that was a saying. Alex though, did not have anything to show for the previous season. Though of course, his failure is nothing compared to Zhenya’s. More than a few rounds into the night and surrounded by his friends, Alex had not cared enough to respond to Zhenya’s comments. Zhenya could do what he wanted. If he wanted to wallow, that was fine. Alex refused to let his loss – his defeats – dictate him anymore than possible.

Yet here, now, as the night goes on, Sidney seems to become smaller and smaller. The angles of his body become more pronounced while Zhenya takes up more and more space. Sitting next to Sidney it is almost as if Zhenya’s making a point of it; pretending everything is normal yet simultaneously acting as if Sidney isn’t there. Sidney smiles though when Alex corners him by the bar, the corners of his mouth stretched oddly.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Alex eyes him.

Sidney looks away.

Back in the booth, Zhenya now has a girl on his lap. Long legged and blonde, she is exactly his type. His hand is on her thigh, easy and for all to see. There is something proprietaryabout it.

Over the summer there had been talk about Zhenya and Oksana. There always seemed to be talk about them and their numerous break ups and reunions. It was particularly boring. The sight of Zhenya kissing the girl now – his tongue a flash of obscene pink as he slips it into her mouth – feels out of place. A show, perhaps, but not one directed at Alex this time.

Sidney shrugs, and nods at the bartender. “Want another round? My treat.”

Alex nods.

 

 

The feeling of unease from that night in Columbus does not leave Alex.

Over the off season, Sidney had been distant. Though truthfully, other than the perennial invitations to Moscow, Alex had not made a huge effort to cure Sidney of it. From a distance he finds himself calling Sidney more, checking in with him after games, then each day. Over the phone Sidney is difficult to read, his tone moderated and words carefully chosen.

When the Toronto Maple Leafs fly out to play the Capitals, Alex debates the wisdom of seeking Colby Armstrong out and speaking to him. If anyone would be able to help, it would be him. However something holds Alex back. He remembers the way Sidney had held himself at the bar in Columbus and how it had felt to look at him. Alex isn’t sure if he can speak to Armstrong about that, even if he is one of Sidney’s closest friends. The following day when the Leafs have moved on, Alex isn’t sure if he made a mistake or not.

When Alex has time, he tries to catch the Penguins games. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. There is something about the way Sidney skates – there always has been. In interviews, he rarely strays from the script.

The Penguins are playing well. So is Sidney. That is something, Alex tells himself. It is something. 

It is different this year with the C on his jersey.

Alex talks to Sidney about that sometimes.

“It’s different for me,” Sidney says once.

Alex doesn’t know if it is. He thinks of all the expectations and ambitions two of them carry and how far they have come. There is no one else like them. Alex has never been shy about what he wants and he always wanted to be captain of the Capitals. Everyone knew that and everyone knew he was going to be given it sooner or later. Sidney’s didn’t have the easiest first year of captaincy, Alex knows. (Everyone knows). Being captain can be a weight to bear as much as an honour to be given. Now Sidney’s captaincy is proven. Alex’s isn’t. Not yet. 

It is a comfort having Sidney to speak to each night. Or maybe just selfishness.

When the Capitals have a short stretch of days off Alex flies down to Pittsburgh and shows up unannounced on Lauren and Sidney’s doorstep just as Sidney’s about to leave to go to an optional practice.

“You didn’t need to come,” Sidney tells him, brattish and boring in a practiced way Alex knows better than to react to.

“Maybe I miss you?” Alex says, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter.

Sidney snorts.

There is something half-hearted about it though and if Sidney would let him, Alex thinks he would gather him close.

Alex can only really stay for two days – and that is only if he catches an early flight. It isn’t enough. Alex knows that. It isn’t even close. Not now. There is something so fragile about him. He has hidden it under his skin and behind media ready smiles, but it is so obvious to Alex. It slips out between the lines and in the way Sidney holds himself like too people are watching.

On Sidney’s free day, they take the dogs out for a hike. In the early morning light, Sidney’s exhaustion can’t be hidden. Like a head-shy horse, Sidney keeps himself just out of reach. Yet he smiles at Alex while they are out in Raccoon Creek State Park, and laughs when Alex tells him stories of Sasha and Greenie and Nicky. It isn’t anything Sidney hasn’t heard before, but he acts as if they are new to him.

In the sunshine, there is something heartbreaking about Sidney. 

Alex wants. He just – he _wants_. It’s a realisation that comes on an inhaled breath and settles as he exhales. He has always wanted Sidney in one way or another. Here, now, under the lush covering of the forest, Alex has him. Alex knows it.

He tells another story and it makes Sidney laugh.

 

 

(There is no rush.

Things will happen when they happen.

They always have when it comes to the two of them.)

 

 

The night before Alex has to return to Washington, he and Sidney sprawl out on Sidney and Lauren’s too small couch and watch a film Alex had on his laptop. It’s an excellent thriller one of Alex’s friends made. Well. A friend of one of Alex’s friends to be specific. Thankfully it has subtitles, but even with them, Alex can tell Sidney has lost track of the plot a while ago. He’s relaxed against Alex’s side though, and doesn’t fuss much when Alex nudges him to take another handful of popcorn.

Alex is engrossed in the film when Sidney speaks. “Does it count if the other person pretends it didn't happen?”

Sidney doesn't name any names, but Alex knows.

It can only be Zhenya.

Zhenya is the only person that Sidney’s eyes follow, who _he_ follows with an ease that doesn’t translate to anyone else. 

Sidney has his eyes focused on the television, his body held in forced relaxation and something deep inside Alex gives way. His heart trembles inside his chest and his spike of anger fades into something sharp and painful.

Leaning over, Alex kisses Sidney, chaste and brief.

“There,” he tells Sidney quietly, his voice steady as it can be. “That counted. That happened.”

Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe it’s just going to hurt him in the long run. Yet Alex can’t regret it.

Sidney matters. Sidney matters to Alex so much.

The film is still playing. Alex makes himself turn back to the screen. Tucking Sidney against his side, they sit together and watch silently. Lauren gets home towards the end. Leaving her oxfords by the door and her bag on the kitchen counter, she grabs a fork and a plate of leftovers they set aside for her. Squeezing into the spot next to Sidney, she looks tired but she smiles at both of them.

“What are we watching?”

“Best film,” Alex tells her, handing her the dvd cover.

“Is that so,” Lauren hums, sounding rather unconvinced. 

Alex grins.

It’s a bit of an act, but not a bad one. Tucking her toes under Sidney’s thighs, Lauren takes a bite of the pasta salad Alex made and settles back into the couch cushions. There is quietness to Lauren that sometimes makes her difficult to read. Alex knows she worries. He has heard it in her voice over the past few days. The Lemieux’s aren’t a small family, but they are a protective one.

In the morning Alex gives in, and before he leaves he wraps his arms around Sidney and holds him close. It’s dark outside. Alex’s flight is the latest one he can take in order to make it back to D.C in time to attend the mandatory team practice. Soft and still half asleep, Sidney lets Alex hold him for longer than he would normally put up with. When Alex tucks him under his chin, he does murmur a little in complaint, but he allows it and the kiss Alex presses into his dark hair.

“I will see you soon.”

The words feel like a promise.

“December,” Sidney nods.

 

 

Alex’s flight is early, but not as early as he allows Sidney to believe and without his knowledge, Alex takes a detour to Zhenya’s. When he answers the door, his expression is closed and they both know what’s happening here.

“You took Sid's trust.”

Zhenya doesn’t answer. Alex did not expect him too. There is nothing Zhenya can say. His actions are known now, no longer hidden in Sidney’s silence and Zhenya’s refusal to acknowledge them. Alex expects Zhenya to act like this towards him, but not towards Sidney. Never to Sidney. It is difficult to reconcile the awe Zhenya felt when he first started to play alongside Sidney to this. Before their friendship disintegrated, Zhenya would get embarrassed whenever Alex teased him about it. It had been funny. Everyone had thought so. Those times feel so distant now.

“He was your friend,” Alex says, unable to stop himself.

Zhenya flinches. “He is my friend.”

There are many things Alex can say to that. Cruel things, threats and warnings. However in the end, he does not say any of them.

“Act like it then.”

There is nothing more that can be said, only that.

There is no gratification to be gained afterwards. Alex returns to D.C., makes practice and lets the season pull him forward. D.C. becomes about momentum. Alex focuses on keeping moving. Time passes. The Caps win more than they lose in October and November. Alex gloats about that and then in November, Sidney starts scoring goals in each game and doesn’t stop.

At home, Mikhael teases Alex when he catches him watching replays.

“Once not enough?”

Alex shakes his head. He’s not particularly embarrassed.

On the ice, Sidney is something else. He always has been. Alex sees little point in denying it, or the way he looks forward to seeing every minute Sidney plays.

(Alex does not worry when Sidney is on the ice).

There are occasional moments of awkwardness in his interactions with Sidney now. A few times Sidney stumbles over words. It isn’t easy to speak over him, to be loud and boisterous and to be too much now, after everything, but Alex tries because Sidney needs that now. 

Grabbing a beer from the kitchen, Mikhael comes and sits with Alex to watch the final period of the game. When Mikhael first moved to Washington, he lived with Alex. It was only meant to be temporary, but Alex manages to convince him to stay for a while. Now living within a reasonable drive from the Verizon Center where he works in the Mystics media department, he occasionally drops by when Alex’s voicemails become too pathetic to be ignored.

Outside, Mikhael’s fiancée, Mia, is answering her phone. Barefoot in the freshly mown grass, she gestures with her hands as she talks. She and Mikhael have been together for about a year or so. Over the summer Mikhael asked her to marry him. For the most part Alex likes her, even though sometimes laughs at the jeans he wears. His parents like her too. When they visit the five of them have dinner and attend his games.

Even though his mother is no longer the President of Dynamo’s women’s basketball team, his parents aren’t often able to fly out to Washington. When they do, they don’t seem to stay nearly long enough.

Mikhael laughs when Alex says as much. “Mia might disagree.”

“Mia loves them.”

“Mia loves that your house is bigger than ours and they stay with you.”

“My house has too many rooms,” he finds himself telling Mikhael.

Mikhael smiles softly. “Do not say that.”

It is the truth, Alex knows that. He bought a house for a family that only is there with him for a few weeks out of each year.

“Stay for dinner?” Alex asks hopefully.

Mikhael snorts. Of course he sees through Alex. Mikhael always has. He and Mia stay through, and drink his wine and eat his food and laugh at him. Currently they are planning to get married in Washington. Her family are Spanish and were as deeply in favour of a traditional hometown wedding in Tolosa as Tatyana and Mikhail were of one in Moscow. Washington, therefore, is a compromise.

It is strange to think Mikhael is starting his own family. For so long, Mikael has been Alex’s only link home in D.C. In a few months he will be Mia’s husband and she will be his wife. 

“Maybe I should buy you a proper house for your wedding gift,” Alex says after a few glasses of wine.

Mia makes a face. “How about you open another bottle of wine?”

Mikhael laughs.

Alex shakes his head. Now that he can do.

 

 

Everything is the same, only everything is different.

Sidney is there, but he’s not.

There is something painfully professional about how Sidney holds himself as the season progresses. Evgeni finds himself watching; waiting for what he does not know. Nothing really changes. His place in the team does not alter; his minutes on ice only increase from game to game, and in practice he is never pulled aside. Like Damocles, he waits, but no sword drops.

The moment he ran from Pittsburgh, he had been afraid of what he would return to. Yet he could not have imagined the practiced smiles Sidney gives him or how Sidney allows the distance between them to be traced back to his reticence. Everyone knows that Sidney is one of the quieter guys on the team. He’s their captain, but he’s also the guy sitting in the back of the booth minding their coats when the team goes out. Evgeni is just – he keeps fucking things up; with Sidney, with Oksana, with Sanja. Just. He doesn't know what he's doing. The only thing that isn’t going wrong is the Pens and that isn’t due to his performance. It’s down to Sidney. It’s all down to Sidney.

Slowly, Sidney forgives him. Evgeni can see it and hurts in ways he never could have expected.

“You’re my friend,” Sidney says at one point.

He says it forcefully, like he’s making a point.

Evgeni finds himself exhaling shakily.

Evgeni should want this, should want to go back to being what they were. At night, although he shouldn’t, he finds himself thinking about Sidney’s hands and mouth and the curve of his neck. There are so many things Evgeni could never have had, but there was a moment when Sidney reached for him, when Evgeni could have had him.

There is no going back; that is what Evgeni learnt when he was twenty. He’s not sure he’s learnt anything else since then.

 

 

In the weeks that follow Alex’s visit, Sidney worries that it will be awkward. Or that he will be awkward, because Sidney is always awkward. He knows he is. He isn’t as oblivious as people like say. Yet it isn't. Alex doesn't let things get awkward. He calls Sidney to ask him if he was watching the Caps games, boasts about his play and pesters Sidney about his. Alex texts him all the time and they kissed - sometimes Sidney will find himself thinking that. And it's okay.

He mentions the kiss once, just to say it, just to see what Alex will say.

“I think of it too,” Alex tells him carefully.

Sidney isn’t sure where to go from there.

After a beat, Alex continues telling a story about Sasha which Sidney’s already heard before.

In December, when the Penguins fly out to play the Capitals, he invites Sidney over for a late dinner. In a few days it will be Christmas, and then it will be New Year’s Eve. The Winter Classic will follow. As such, Sidney attends knowing that HBO will be there filming Alex’s family dinner.

“Don’t worry,” Alex says with a bright smile. “They’re coming to your dinner too.”

Sidney makes a face. He doesn’t want to think about that. HBO had initially approached Steve with the idea, and Mario had approved it. Sidney knows the documentary series is important to promote the Penguins franchise and NHL as a whole, but it feels invasive having cameras inside their home. It feels equally so having them inside Alex’s house. From the corner of Sidney’s eye, he watches the camera operator shift angles to film him unbuttoning his coat and hanging it by the door. Alex does not seem to notice. He mostly seems happy, though that might just be because his parents flew into Washington the night before Sidney and the Pens arrived.

For all that the evening should be awkward; the Ovechkin’s are a warm family. They welcome Sidney as they always do when he sees them and sitting next to Alex’s brother, Sidney feels almost comfortable. There is something very measured about Mikhael. Seemingly unflappable, he merely grins a little as Alex re-enacts the game for him and managed to save Sidney’s glass of wine from the grand sweep of Alex’s hands as he act out his second period goal.

Afterwards, when the cameras have gone and the table is cleared, Sidney doesn’t quite know how the dinner went. He only knows that the next questions HBO will ask him tomorrow will be about his ‘supposed rivalry’ between them. However the questions before the dinner were about that too.

Yawning, he thinks about staying the night. Alex has crashed on his couch more than a handful of times over the years. By now Alex more than owes him.

“None of that,” Alex chides. “It’s early still.”

This makes Mikhael grin. “No it is not, Sanja.”

“Besides,” Mia laughs. “Alex doesn’t have any room to spare.”

“Lies,” Alex exclaims. “I always have room for you, Sid.”

Tatyana gives him a look.

“Another time,” Sidney promises.

Alex makes a face. Mikhael snorts.

Picking up his car keys, he and Mia push Sidney out of the house before Alex can try to convince Sidney to stay. There is something charming about the ease Mikhael and Mia have around each other. On the drive back to the hotel the Pens are staying in, Sidney drifts off to sleep in the back seat. He wakes when Mikhael pulls up outside the hotel entrance.

“It was good to see you again,” Mikhael says; his eyes kind as Sidney unbuckles his seatbelt.

It was good to see Mikhael and Mia again. Even with the cameras recording every moment, it was a pleasant evening. They smile when he says as much. In a few days he will see them again when they fly down to attend the Winter Classic game with their parents. Sidney is sure Alex will take advantage of the opportunity to embarrass him in front of both their families. He wouldn’t be Alex if he didn’t.  

Inside the hotel, the floor that the Penguins have taken over is silent. The guys are still out. Sidney is glad. There is little time to breathe on road trips. This is a short one. They should be home by the end of the week, but it’s harder this year. It will get better. He knows it will. Everything gets easier over time. Slipping out of his suit, Sidney thinks about returning the calls he ignored during dinner. He probably should. Amongst them, there are calls from Steve, Lauren, Jaromír and a text message from Jack. Sidney sets his phone aside though, and gets into the shower. They can wait, at least for now.

Under the spray, Sidney closes his eyes and lets the hot water undo the tension in his shoulders. A bruise from one of Green’s hits it already taking shape. It isn’t too bad. In a week or so it will fade like all of the others. Sidney isn’t worried.

A few days ago the Penguins played the Rangers.

Sidney is used to hockey, used to what it means. It is still strange not to see Jaromír when the Rangers are in town. When they last caught up during the off season, Jaromír had mentioned that he was thinking about returning to the NHL. However he said that before he extended his contract with Avangard Omsk. Sidney isn’t holding his breath. Hockey has never felt like a job, but Sidney thinks he can understand how it could.

The season is halfway through.

It isn’t so bad now. As long as Sidney doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t hurt when Geno looks past him or the few times when he doesn’t. If people get the wrong impression, if Flower gets that look on his face like he knew all along that something had happened, that’s okay. It even makes sense, in a way, for to him to think it was Geno who rejected Sidney. It’s embarrassing though, to think about how obvious Sidney must have been for Flower to have known. At least Jack is too distanced from the Penguins to pick up on anything when he calls to wish Sidney a happy (American) Thanksgiving. Colby may have picked up on something being off – his ties to the Pens locker room were still strong – but it wasn’t anything Sidney couldn’t deal with.

In a few days they will be back in Pittsburgh and –

No one is counting anything but the games the Pens win, and the goals Sidney and Geno score.

That makes it okay.

 

 

(The following morning, the first question Sidney is asked, is about Alex.

It was always going to be about Alex.)

 

 

When Sidney is concussed in January, it all becomes moot. All the things that had once mattered so much don’t anymore. Overnight Nathalie stops caring about games and scores and conference rankings. Where they once were so important, now they mean nothing to her.

When the hospital releases Sidney, Nathalie tries to get him to move back with them. When he doesn't (clearly unable to stand the thought of his younger siblings seeing him in such a state), Nathalie more or less moves into the apartment he and Lauren share. That lasts for one week before April and the Lemieux’s converge, packing Sidney up and taking him home.

It’s awful to see Sidney so unwell, so unable to function in the most basic way. On bad days he can’t keep food down, can’t do anything without her or Mario helping him. Nathalie isn't a stranger to this side of hockey. It isn’t the first time she’s seen this. She doesn’t know what it means, but it is different seeing Sidney like this, than it was seeing Mario at his worst. It fractures something very deep inside her.

Sidney is so very young.

Mario was his age once. Then, he could not move without being in pain. His back made even the smallest tasks painful. He moved so carefully, so slowly; his nerves raw and abused. He had been stripped bare; his motivation and determination marking him and driving him. She had cared for him then and always.

Hockey did not come without a cost. It was different for everyone, even her.   

Back when she and Mario first fostered Sidney, it felt like hockey was the only way to get through to him, the only way to connect to him. It was a tool. Some of Nathalie fondest memories are of when Mario would take Sidney out on the ice during the Penguins family practices. After days of silence and averted eyes, Sidney would laugh and smile so very freely. And he was so good; so fast and bright and talented. Even when he was years behind on formal coaching and training of other players his age, he could do things the NHL rookies couldn't even dream of attempting. 

It was always so terribly easy. Hockey was part of their family. It's only now, Nathalie wonders if they shouldn't have been easy, if she should have said something, done more. Sidney is a great hockey player. No one can deny that. However maybe he might have wanted different things. Nathalie doesn't know. 

At night when she walks up the staircase to the master bedroom, she thinks of how much Sidney liked school, how his grades became so good and how quietly proud he was of them. None of them had seriously considered Sidney going to college. No one. Not the local or national press. Not any of Sidney’s teachers, coaches or trainers. Not her or Mario or April. It was assumed he would go into the draft and from there make the starting roster of whatever team he was drafted by.

Sometimes Sidney seems old beyond his years. But other times, it is almost as if he much younger. Maybe it would have been better if he did go to college, if only for a year, if only for the chance to act his age. It is a thought that keeps Nathalie up at night. It is one of many.

What if Sidney’s career is over?

There are players only having begun their career at Sidney’s age.

Nathalie remembers how he had taken being made alternate captain in his rookie year, and captain the following year. The responsibility of both roles had suited him – they all thought that. Over time he had grown into a remarkable leader who the entire organisation believed in. Now though, she can’t help but thinking of how young he was. It was something people remarked on then. They had all dismissed it.

Could Sidney have said no? No to Mario – to Therrien, to Ray, to the organisation Mario loved so dearly?

Nathalie doesn’t know. Can’t know, maybe.

 

 

There are days when it feels like Sidney retreats from them – his anger and irritability, and his inability to control them, upsetting Sidney more than the emotions themselves. Distanced and vulnerable, the sight of his oldest son turning inwards on himself hurts Mario more than he could have imagined. He finds himself thinking of his own parents and how they had had to watch his health issues from afar. Being on the other side of the equation is something he finds himself ill-equipped for. For all that he saw Sidney injured on ice and the recovery time afterwards, nothing prepared him for this. Ankle sprains and dark mottled bruises are one thing, this concussion is something else. On bad days, Sidney’s frustrations transform into something awful and broken.

Weeks pass. Concussions aren’t meant to last this long.

As time passes, it all unravels. All the lines and rules and secrets and things left unsaid between the two of them. Mario shushes Sidney, tries to tell him to stop, that it's okay. But it as if Sidney needs to say it, can't stop himself. The words tumble out, about the things people say. The things they have always said about him. Secrets too, that Mario had thought he had kept away from Sidney come out too; about the player who was traded during Sidney’s rookie year, about how he looked at Sidney like Sidney was the problem. How he looked at Sidney exactly the way the other kids in state care looked at Sidney, like he saw the parts of Sidney that were put together wrong.

“There isn’t _anything_ wrong with you,” Mario tells Sidney, because there isn't. There never was.

Sidney shakes his head. “He said–”

Mario doesn’t give a shit what some second rate player said about Sidney. The locker room never needed a guy like him bringing down the mood of the team. Mario would have traded him with or without Sidney in the picture. The only thing Sidney did was expedite the process. He tells Sidney that, he tells Sidney that over and over.

Sidney can’t settle though. Won’t. There are dark circles under his eyes and although he’s trying to hide it, he is trembling slightly in an effort to manage the meagre light slipping under the bottom of the door from the hall.

The next day he won’t remember half of what he’s said, Mario reminds himself.  If that.

“I don’t remember,” Sidney says once.

There is something about his tone, something about his confession which makes it feel like it was a secret. Sidney’s hand is clammy in Mario’s, and Sidney repeats himself over and over until he doesn’t, until he starts to tell Mario about how he went there, how he stood outside his childhood house, and all he thought was it looked smaller in the pictures he had seen, the pictures journalists put in their articles.

They had all flown out with Sidney to Nova Scotia to witness his leg of the Olympic relay. However they had not been able to stay long. Mario and Nathalie flew back to Pittsburgh with the kids an hour after Sidney passed the torch over to the next torch runner. Sidney though had stayed to do press and attend the official celebrations Halifax had organised in his honour. When he arrived back home the following day, he had been exhausted. Then Mario had not thought anything of it; it was a big event. Sidney was bound to return to Pittsburgh drained (though nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t put right).

Steve had stayed though; he had not mentioned anything about this to Mario.

“He asked me not to,” Steve admits when Mario sees him next.

Mario doesn’t care. When it comes to Sidney, Mario knows everything. Mario has long been the gatekeeper when it comes to any interaction with Sidney and for good reason. In the past Lauren sometimes liked to joke about how intimidating Mario could be when he wants. Now, Mario does not care what impression he gives off. Not now.

Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Sid isn’t fifteen anymore.”

“He’s my son.”

“He’s my client,” Steve retorts, his voice steady and even, ending the conversation.

When Mario brings up the conversation with Jaromír, Jaromír goes quiet. In Omsk playing for Avangard, Jaromír feels a world away. For all they have been through and everything they have said and done, there is no one Mario trusts like Jaromír and no one who knows him as well as Jaromír does. It goes both ways and sometimes they both have hated that more than they have liked each other.

“He’s right, you know,” Jaromír says after a while, his voice thoughtful.

Steve probably is.

“He shouldn’t have gone there alone, Jaro.”

“No,” Jaromír agrees softly.

“Come back, come home,” Mario finds himself saying. Asking.

“You know I can’t,”

Mario doesn’t know. All he knows is they need Jaromír. He needs Jaromír.

“The Pens are Sid’s team now,” Jaromír says simply. “They need him, not me.”

 

 

(Months later, when rumours start to spread about locker room coups the entire team take the ice with Sidney’s C, and in Geno’s case K, on their jerseys.

Jaromír was right. The Pens are Sidney’s team.)

 

 

It's better when Alex visits.

Mario does not like to admit it, but it is true. Even now.

Sidney had been doing so well lately. Everyone had been cautiously optimistic, but in the morning something shifted. In that moment, all the progress he had made over the past week seems to be lost within hours. Unable to deal with light or noise, he had locked himself away in his room. It had upset Stephanie, who had to help him back upstairs to his old room, and it was only Nathalie’s insistence that managed to get her to leave for school.

When Alex calls, Mario closes his eyes for a beat. “Another time.”

Mario knows how his family love Alex, loves how exuberant he is, and how he makes himself at home in Sidney's space. For what it’s worth, Mario likes him too. He has always been a good friend to Sidney. However, for better or for worst, Mario knows guys like Alex. Alex is the kind of player – the kind of person – who is used to getting what he wants. Used to being given what he wants. Of course Mario keeps one eye on him.

It did not matter so much before; now though it does.

On day like these, no one is seeing Sidney.

Where most of the Pens, accept that if Mario tells them today isn't a good day for Sidney, then it isn't a good day. Alex, of course, pushes.

 

 

“Another time,” Mario says, like that is an answer, like that is where the conversation ends.

Alex can be quiet. He tells Mario that, and when that isn’t enough, Alex says he won’t stay long.

He presses. If it was anyone else, he would stop. But it isn’t. It’s Sidney and – and Alex just needs to see him. Alex can’t quite say that, but he will, if Mario makes him.

It was his team that did it, one of Alex’s teammates. Hockey is a hard game, but Alex carries that knowledge. He will always have to carry it. His team’s actions are Alex’s. Before the game, he told his guys they were going to win and they did. Then a few days after Dave Steckel's shoulder check, Tampa Bay's Victor Hedman checks Sidney and – and now Alex is here, pressing Mario.

In the background, Alex hears Nathalie saying maybe it will help, and Alex isn’t sure it will (isn’t sure if this is him being selfish again), but it’s an opening and Alex takes it. Pushing and pushing until they give in.

Stephanie opens the front door to Alex when he arrives.

Before the concussion, Alex liked to tease Sidney by making terrible jokes about dating her or Lauren as a way to marry into the family.  Now though he hugs Stephanie because he can tell she need it and then brings Austin into the embrace when Alex spots him watching. Of all Sidney’s siblings, Austin has always struck Alex as the youngest at heart, if not in age. Alexa has her mother and sister’s spirit. Austin though, takes after Sidney and there is something about the way he refuses comfort before relenting all at once to it, that is strikingly like Sidney. The Lemieux’s house which had always been filled with such life and happiness, feels cold and impersonal. Everything is clean, orderly, and exactly where Alex remembered, but the atmosphere feels wrong.

Nathalie sets Alex up in his usual room, but when the house is quiet Alex slips down the hall to Sidney’s room. Curling into bed next to him, Alex presses a kiss into his curly hair. Stirring a little, Sidney lets out a shaky breathe.

“You being good?” Alex asks Sidney, to which Sidney makes a face.

Something inside Alex changes shape. Inside Alex’s chest, his heart is beating so loudly. Pressing against Alex’s ribs and spilling out of him and filling the room.  He wraps his arms around Sidney and holds him, pressing another kiss into his hair and whispering gossip and lies and random things into Sidney's ear.

“Shut up, Sanja,” Sidney mutters half-heartedly, his voice so worn.

Alex doesn’t know where Sidney picked that up. Alex has always been Alex to Sidney; Alex has always been Alex as much as he was ever Sasha or Sanja or Ovie or any of the numerous other name people used when referring to him. Alex was bound for the NHL, destined for great things. He had known that early on and he had been ready for what that would mean.

It is new, to be Sanja to Sidney. But it’s something to think about later.

 

 

(They're still them, in a way. They're quieter, but they’re still them).

 

 

It’s strange the way Sidney’s concussion connects Alex to people outside of the two of them. When Alex leaves Pittsburgh, he finds himself being pulled aside by Colby Armstrong the next time the Caps play the Leafs.

Armstrong doesn’t waste time with small talk, or with common courtesies. “How is Sid really?”

“Mario would be better–” Alex starts to say.

“Mario won’t tell me anything,” Armstrong interrupts.

Alex isn’t surprised. He hesitates though, unsure if Sidney would feel comfortable with Armstrong knowing about the severity of his condition. It has been so long since Sidney was first diagnosed with a concussion. There has been little to no change. There are good days, but there are horrible ones. Armstrong notices Alex’s hesitation and sucker punches Alex in the arm.

“Tell me, fucker.”

Alex makes a face and rubs his arm where Armstrong’s punch landed. “Hey!”

Armstrong makes a face back at him. “Sid’s my best friend, okay.”

“Sid is _my_ best friend,” Alex finds himself saying without thinking, because Sidney is.

Armstrong snorts. “Then we have that in common.”

Alex – he can’t argue with that and like that, Alex finds himself part of a phone tree. At first it is just Armstrong – Colby – who Alex comes to know as someone honest and strangely kind for all his bluntness. From dealing with Colby’s calls every week, over time Alex finds himself being called up at all hours by a handful of NHL players. It shouldn’t, but it catches Alex off guard when he starts to receive calls from Jack, Matt Duchene, Patrice Bergeron. In all the time Alex has known Sidney, Sidney never seemed to be friends with many people.

“Maybe it’s you,” Mikhael says, when Alex finds himself bringing it up.

Alex does not understand.

“You want to be his best friend.”

“I am his best friend,” Alex tells him, because he is.

Mikhael smiles softly. “No, I think you want to be his only friend.”

Alex flinches.

Mikhael’s voice is so gentle, and kind. His tone laces through the cruelty of his words making Alex feel small, and young and ashamed. Because there is truth to it. Alex has always been selfish, always gotten what he wanted and he’s wanted Sidney from the very first moment Alex heard of him. As the youngest child, he isn’t used to sharing, even now, even after everything.

“This isn’t about you,” Mikhael tells Alex. “This is about Sidney.”

 

 

Time stop starts and shifts around them all. It passes in days and games, or hours and shifts. It slips and it stutters. Sidney finds himself moving backwards and forwards, gaining and losing ground with no rhyme or rhythm. His concussion does not dissipate. The symptoms reappear, unpredictable and awful in the way they carve his life into pieces which do not fit together. From a distance, he longs for hockey, for the sound of ice under skates.

Sidney lets himself have Geno.

There is so much he doesn’t have; maybe might never have again. Sidney wants Geno; wants to laugh with him during practice and knock knees when they sit in VIP sections, wants their in-jokes and endless text exchanges and easy silences. Sidney wants Geno. He knows Alex doesn’t understand. Perhaps refuses to understand. But then, Sidney doesn’t need him to. Sidney understands. He does. Alex saw the aftermath – Alex held Sidney together when Sidney couldn’t. Sidney will always remember that. But Alex doesn’t get to decide.

There is so much Sidney cannot control. Alex, Geno – Sidney knows it might not be smart, but he wants them in his life. He wants them. He’s never been great about wanting things. He’s wanted to be different, to be somewhere else, to be someone else. He wants them.

When Sidney can, he spends time with Geno and lets himself watch the way Geno frowns at his cat when Dixie ignores him and tries not to laugh at Geno’s awful jokes. Usually he fails at that. Geno always looks delighted whenever Sidney bites his lip to stop himself from snorting. For the most part, they are ok. Sidney tries to ignore the times when it takes Geno a beat smile and how there are times where he avoids meeting Sidney’s eyes.

Sidney doesn’t want to think about what happened between them. Even now, Sidney isn’t sure what did happened. He remembers the way Geno had returned from Vancouver a shadow of himself. Exhausted and trying not to show it, he kept going like they all did. Except that wasn’t it. Sidney knows he doesn’t understand. He knows that. But he thinks he wants to, with Geno.

So he tries.

Slowly, they fumble back towards something akin to friendship. Sometimes Sidney isn’t sure what it is. Sometimes Sidney catches Geno looking at him, his face so terrible open and vulnerable. Sidney thinks Geno knows; that he can hear his heart pounds inside his chest. Sidney remembers the feeling of Geno’s hands and mouth on him. At night, alone, Sidney finds himself thinking of the way Geno had touched him. Touched him and left him, flushed and stupid and spent. It leaves Sidney tangled and restless and confused.

Geno is Sidney’s friend, but he is unpredictable.

To Alex, Sidney knows Geno is something else. Someone else.

“He was different,” Alex says one time when he skypes Sidney. “When we were kids, he was so stupidly kind.”

Over the webcam, Alex is difficult to read. Washed out and faded by the artificial light, he feels very far away. Sidney knows Alex isn’t always kind. There are sharp edges to him, and at times they show more than they should. He can be thoughtless and there are times Sidney sees him get lost in himself and his own performance at the expense of his team and his teammates.

“He was your best friend,” Sidney says, because he thinks Geno might have been.

For all the expectations and guilt Geno carries upon his shoulders, for all he has done, he is incredibly kind – stupidly, as Alex says – and Sidney can see how Geno would have been drawn to Alex and how it was only a matter of time before things had to go bad. As a kid – a teenager – Alex would not have thought twice about Geno. Teenagers never think about kindness.

However in Sidney’s experience, kindness can be intimidating. Is intimidating. For the longest time, Sidney had not known what to do with it, let alone if he should trust in it. It was Lauren who was never afraid, and Mario who loved him fearlessly, who taught Sidney how. Nathalie too. Nathalie who waited for him, and who he knows he hurt time and time against. It’s been years, however he still remembers the look on her face when she reached for him one day and he flinched.

Alex shakes his head. “He wasn’t.”

No, Geno wasn’t Alex’s best friend. Geno was more than that.

The realisation must show, because Alex looks away, vulnerable in a way Sidney has never seen before.

Sidney lets the subject drop.

 

 

An hour after they log off, Alex texts Sidney.

_You are Zhenya’s best friend._

It is true.

Zhenya has so many friends, so many people who are drawn to his laughter and easy smiles. Perhaps he has better friends; friends he talks to more, friends who he sees more. Sidney though, is who Zhenya cares about. Out of everyone, it is Sidney whose opinion Zhenya values and whose presence or absence Zhenya always notes. Sanja doesn’t know when that happened, when he stopped turning to find Zhenya looking at him, to instead find him watching Sidney. It did though. It did.

 

 

With Sidney out, much of the pressure (if not too much), falls on Evgeni’s shoulders.

He doesn’t know how Sidney does it – he doesn’t know how Sidney did it at eighteen.

When he catches up with Lauren at Plates and Skates, she tells him how Sidney is worried. The confirmation of what Evgeni had feared is too much.

“No, Geno,” she says, equally upset. “Sid thinks you are doing so well.”

Evgeni isn’t sure if he is. The team is surviving, but Sidney’s absence is felt at every junction. They are not the same team without him. Everyone knows it.

“You should see him,” she tells him.

“Mario –”

“Sid wants to see you,” she interrupts, speaking over Evgeni.

And – Evgeni wants to see him. He always wants to see Sidney.

“Then see him,” she says, making it sound simple.

So much has happened between Evgeni and Sidney. It feels so long ago when there was an easy friendship between them. Evgeni cannot deny that he misses him. That is a given, he supposes, since he had always missed Sidney in one way or another.

When Sidney reaches a point where he is able to start watching practice and the occasional home game, Evgeni tries to check in with him. There are times when he cannot, his courage failing him, but sometimes it doesn’t. The owner’s box is relatively unfamiliar, but Evgeni can’t say he focuses on it much. Slowly it becomes easier to talk to Sidney, easier to make him smile. Things aren’t good, but they’re as good as they can be.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Sidney, because he is. He was too afraid to say it before, but not now.

Sidney’s expression is unreadable. Evgeni is not sure what, if anything, his apology meant to him. Yet where before Sidney forgave him, Evgeni tries to let him now, tries to release the burden of guilt he carries because that is what Sidney wants and he has to respect that.

It’s better with Sidney around.

The more Sidney is able to be around the team, the better it feels on the ice. Off the ice, Evgeni lets himself ask – ask for Sidney’s time and attention.

On a free day, on days where Sidney well enough for it, Lauren drops him off at Evgeni’s front door on her way to work. Wrapped up in warm layers, Dixie rubs herself against Sidney’s ankles as he unwraps the scarf from around his neck and unbuttons his coat. Yawning, Evgeni watches. Half asleep and still dressed in the sweat pants he slept in, Evgeni feels clumsy and far too transparent. His house is so quiet. Sidney fills it with warmth before the morning is over. They eat breakfast in front of the TV, but instead of watching the bland American morning shows, Evgeni tells Sidney about the gossip Jordan told him about Marc and the Rangers. It makes Sidney rolls his eyes. Sidney is no fun; all the guys know this. He does laugh a little when Evgeni points it out.

“I know, I know,” Sidney tells him. “I’m a buzzkill.”

Evgeni ducks his head and bites his lip to stop himself from laughing. When he looks up, Sidney is smiling at him. There is a softness to Sidney’s expression. Evgeni can’t help but respond to it. That isn’t new. It’s been a long time now since the night Evgeni was drafted and for all that has changed, the way Evgeni reacts to Sidney hasn’t. If it’s a tell, it is one of many.

Evgeni isn’t a teenager anymore. Though, there are moments he still feels like one.

There is no one Evgeni knows better than Sidney – at least on the ice. Off the ice, Evgeni isn’t sure. There are so many things Evgeni knows about Sidney, which Sidney never told him. The same, perhaps, could be said for Sidney. Yet equally, they only know pieces of each other. It’s not enough, never enough, because Evgeni wants to know everything.

Towards noon, Sidney drifts off to sleep while Evgeni is in the kitchen putting together their lunch. Haphazardly stretched out on Evgeni’s couch, Sidney sleeps for half an hour or so, waking when Dixie jumps off his chest to go and investigate the kitchen for scraps. Hair mussed and shirt wrinkled, he blinks sleepily.

“Sorry,” he apologises.

Evgeni shakes his head. “No problem.”

Before Sidney, Evgeni wanted all of Sanja’s time.

Inter-team meets and national tournaments meant seeing Sanja. No one understood Evgeni like Sanja did back then – but then no one was like Sanja. He was half gone by the time they were teenagers. His NHL career a given at that point. They used to fall into bed together; with fumbling fingers, Evgeni would scramble to undress and Sanja would laugh and laugh even when Evgeni accidentally elbowed him in his rush to unbutton his jeans. 

It was never enough. Or maybe Evgeni had never been enough.

Sidney captures all of Sanja’s attention effortlessly. But then, he does with Evgeni too.

Evgeni doesn’t want to let that be an excuse. It was when he was a rookie, and when he wasn’t. 

“Oksana and I broke up,” he tells Sidney. “Not again; for good.”

It happened a while ago, during the off season. Evgeni hasn’t really talked about it with too many people. Some of the guys know, but he isn’t sure if Sidney is one of them. Even if he is, Evgeni wants to tell him. Saying the words aloud makes them – the breakup too – feel real. The breakup was long overdue, but Evgeni thinks it is for good. They both need to stop repeating themselves, stop hurting themselves. It is frightening to think of a future without her in it, but he thinks he needs too. She needs to be free to do the same.

“Good,” Sidney says simply.

“Good?”

Sidney nods. “Good.”

And where Evgeni was torn in two, he feels himself begin to be redrawn.

 

 

The regular season is drawing to a close by the time the Capitals next play the Penguins in Pittsburgh. Nathalie is so used to seeing Alex in the house by now. They all are. Entering the kitchen she finds him reaching for a mug as he makes a cup of tea for himself. Watching him now – he knows where everything is in their kitchen. He knows where they keep their tea and their mugs and – he's become a fixture in their lives.

“Hey sweetheart,” she says, filling the kettle for him and switching it on.

The last few months have been so hard and Alex has been so amazing. However he's only a little older than Sidney. The stress and strain is starting to show. She can see it in the way he holds himself and the way he makes himself take up so much space when it’s clear he doesn’t want to.

"The season is ending soon," Alex says after a beat.

But he's saying something else.

They both know it, but she nods like he isn't.

Nathalie knows that Alex is hung up on Sidney – she probably knew before Alex did back when he made it his purpose to be Sidney's best friend.

Sidney will miss Alex during the off season. They'll all miss him. He's part of their family. However he has to go back Moscow. She knows he doesn’t want to – he lingers each time leaves for Washington – but he will. The Russian Worlds team will want him, as will his parents and his friends back home, but he'll always have a room waiting for him back in Pittsburgh with them. She tells him that, and he ducks his head a little.

Earlier in the season, Alex and Sidney made vague plans about Sidney coming to Russia for the summer. (With Sidney, as Nathalie was well aware, even vague plans had to be made in advance). Back then they had talked about training together. Nathalie liked the idea. Although Sidney seemed oblivious, it was clear to all of them that Alex really had plans of getting Sidney to party a little, or at the very least spend some time in the sun. Sidney needed that, especially given how he spent his last few summers with Jaromír, where parting was one of the last things either of them would end up doing.

With travel out of the question it’s clear that isn’t going to happen. Nor the family vacation which Mario and Nathalie had planned.

“There is no way we’re leaving you alone,” Natalie told Sidney when he tried to talk her out of it.

“I’d be alright.”

“No,” Natalie said, ending the conversation.

The idea of Sidney being alone is one she cannot stand. None of them can.

 

 

Alex always knew what he wanted and for the longest time Sidney has been that.

It was okay to wait. It was better to wait. Sidney needed time to breathe and Alex wasn’t quite ready. It became something unsaid between them. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

Now though, time seems too short to wait any longer.

Against him, the warmth of Sidney’s skin and the steady inhale and exhale of his breath overwhelm Alex in a way they never have before. He finds himself trembling a little when Sidney blinks awakes. With his hair knotted around his head and his eyes sleepy and dark, he is beautiful and Alex can’t remember why he was waiting. Pressed close with their legs tangled together, it is easy to lean in and kiss him.

Maybe this is selfish, maybe Alex can’t change who he is.

Sidney exhales a little and as he does he opens his mouth and kisses Alex back. It makes Alex whimper. His heart is beating so loudly, and his fingers feel so clumsy as he touches Sidney’s neck and gently cradles his jaw. When Sidney breaks away to breathe, Alex follows, pressing his mouth against the soft curve of Sidney’s neck and the sharp ridge of his collar bone and Alex doesn’t know if he can stop. Yet as he thinks that, his breath catches and then Sidney’s wraps his arms around Alex, holding him close, holding him steady.

“It’s okay,” Sidney whispers.

It’s not. Everything is wrong.

Sidney shakes his head. “We’re okay. We’re always okay.”

There is a sob in Alex’s throat and it builds and builds. Sidney just holds Alex tighter. There is such strength in Sidney’s arms, and Alex can’t hold on anymore. Maybe this was a long time coming too. Maybe this is what Alex could not have seen coming.

He does not know or care.

It’s is awful and unfair and he knows, he knows that Sidney loves Zhenya and has for so long.

“I love you too,” Sidney says, and Alex hates himself.

He has no timing, no grace and he always asks too much. He wants everything and only now does he understand how selfish that is. How selfish he is. He wants all of Sidney, just like he wanted all of Zhenya. He wants everything. Every smile and joke and memory yet to be made. He wants Sidney when Sidney wants Zhenya. Sidney can’t deny that. It is so clear to Alex, even now.

He says that. He says everything. Once he starts, he can’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” Sidney says once, and then twice. Against Alex’s ear, Sidney’s heart is beating fast.

It isn’t Sidney’s fault he’s heart is big enough for more than one person. It isn’t a fault at all.

 

 

In the morning, Evgeni is awoken by the sound of his mobile vibrating with a text from Sidney asking him to pick up Sanja. There are no details, but when Evgeni arrives at the Lemieux’s Sanja looks shaken and when he hugs Nathalie goodbye, he doesn’t let go of her until she lets go of him. In his pyjamas, Sidney smiles tiredly at Evgeni, and Evgeni aches a little at the sight. He watches Sanja gather him close, pressing a kiss to Sidney’s dark hair. It’s painfully intimate and Evgeni has always known they are close – always known how Sanja feels – but seeing it is something else. The ease and familiarity Sanja has with him makes Evgeni look away for a beat. Sanja always made things look so easy.  The petty envy Evgeni feels towards him is stupid. Evgeni should have outgrown it long ago.

In the car, Sanja is quiet, but halfway back to team’s hotel, he swears.

“Can we go to your place?” He asks.

Evgeni glances at his dashboard clock. “You’ll be late to team breakfast.”

“I’m the captain. I can be late.”

For Sidney, that is the reason he is never late, but Evgeni knows better than to say that. Changing lanes, he turns away from the CBD and towards his house. Evgeni can’t remember when it started to go bad between then, only the way everything used to be a dare when they were teenagers. Double dog dares and Sanja laughing as he kissed Evgeni, his fingers digging into Evgeni’s hips and his belt already unbuckled waiting for Evgeni to drop to his knees for him.

“Sidney loves you,” Sanja says as Evgeni is pulling into his driveway.

Evgeni freezes.

Sanja laughs, but it sounds hollow and exhausted.

Evgeni turns a little to look at him, but Sanja is looking straight ahead, his gaze focused on Evgeni’s neighbour taking out his garbage bins. Evgeni has known Sanja for so many years, but he had never seen him like this.

Sanja loves Sidney. That is what Evgeni knows. It is what he has always known.

“You know, right?” Sanja asks.

Evgeni – Evgeni feels something deep inside himself break. “Liar.”

He spits the word, because Sanja still knows how to do this, how to ruin everything. Getting out of his car, Evgeni slams the door shut behind him.

Inside his house, he calls Sanja a taxi with shaky fingers.

Fuck Sanja. Fuck him.

**[2011-2012]**

 

 

By the time the season ends for the Capitals, Alex is exhausted.

Torn in too many pieces, he cannot settle. Not in Washington, not in Pittsburgh, and not in Moscow where he eventually ends up. Alex finds himself existing in snatches of time. Training, meals, drinks with his friends, dinners where he talks too loudly and tips generously in an effort to make himself seem charming rather than something crude.

He thinks of Sidney and he takes calls from him, then in Moscow, Alex opens his home to Zhenya when appears one day, as he was passing by.

“Shouldn’t you be at home with your mother?” Alex chides, because Sidney brings out softness in him, not Zhenya. Never Zhenya.

Old habits are easy to fall back on, especially now.

Zhenya turns to leave, and – Alex reaches for him, and laughs, trying to make it a joke, because everything is a joke if you laugh loudly enough.

If Zhenya’s knee wasn’t still on the mend after he tore his ACL, this would be were a fight would break out. Or something else. Something always happens between the two of them. Alex wonders if that is why nothing has happened with Sidney, if that is why Zhenya keeps finding girls and Alex finds himself leaning into Zhenya’s space later in the night when they go out with their friends. ‘Their friends,’ because they share the same friends and are still stepping on toes even now, when they should be too old for such things. All the ground they made up over the year, feels like it has been lost. Alex finds himself speaking with a sharp undercurrent in his tone, and Zhenya –

“What are you doing?” Zhenya asks at one point.

Alex doesn’t give an answer; Zhenya isn’t asking a question. Zhenya is saying no, saying stop, saying remember.

So Alex does.

With a heart too open and graceless in his honesty, Zhenya was never like Alex. Heartbreak rendered him capricious. Where he should have loved Sidney easily, instead Zhenya was so afraid. Even friendship sat uneasily upon his shoulders. At one point he knew how to love, because he loved Alex. Alex remembers that. He remembers know it when they were teenagers. Only then Alex didn’t care, too caught up in the power of the very concept. It was glorious and he reckless and then there was Sidney who Alex couldn’t take his eyes off. Sidney who was glorious and brilliant and was the only person Alex ever had to try to keep up with. Alex still can’t take his eyes off Sidney. Alex remembers being a kid and wanting Zhenya.

It is sometimes easier to hate friends than it is to forgive them. Alex can’t remember who told him that. It is true though.

Slowly, Alex starts to remember the kindness of Zhenya; his stupid, reckless kindness and the loyalty which coloured him brightly from within. He and Sidney are alike in that respect. Alex sees that now. He didn’t want to before, he can admit that, but he sees it now. It makes sense that they were drawn to each other and where before, hearing Sidney speak about Zhenya would make Alex’s hackles rise, now it doesn’t.

 

 

The summer after Sanja’s rookie year, Evgeni remembers wanting to know everything, and how when Sanja realised, he smiled and suddenly he wasn’t telling stories but waited for Evgeni to ask for them.

Sometimes it’s like they never stopped competing against each other.

They’re not kids, but they’re still up against each other for every award, every trophy, places on the national team. Evgeni is used to losing. He is used to trying so hard and it not being enough. Of him not being enough, of not coming through when it matters. He is so tired of it. So tired of Sanja making it look easy and hating him for it. 

For the longest time, the idea of Sanja was an abstract one, one that made Evgeni ache and one that made him restless long before they meet face to face. 

One of Evgeni’s first coaches told him that a player moving couldn’t get hit. It was a pretty lie, one told to make Evgeni fearless. Instead it made him stupid. He wishes he could say he never saw Sanja coming, that he was a surprise. Sidney too. Maybe the only surprise is the way he want them, even now, even after everything. At nineteen he thought he was patient, at twenty he told himself he could be. He doesn’t know what he feels now, only that Sanja knows him too well and Sidney –  

While Sanja sleeps, Evgeni finds himself calling Sidney. The time zone differences means it’s late afternoon for Sidney. Over the phone he sounds happy. He and Lauren are out hiking with Mario. In the background, Evgeni hears Lauren laughingly call Sidney out for bringing his mobile.

“I left mine at home,” she says, stealing Sidney’s mobile from him. “Like we all were meant to.”

Her voice is bright and happy. Evgeni can almost imagine her rolling her eyes at Sidney as she chides him. It’s a sun soaked thought, and it makes Evgeni forget the distance between Moscow and Pittsburgh, if only for a moment. For the last year or so, Lauren has been getting more involved with the Penguins organisation. She has spearheaded the Little Penguins program, creating partnerships with sponsors and ties with the community.

In the background, Evgeni hears Mario laughing and then Sidney is back on the line, apologising for his sister.

“Geno, are you still there?” Sidney asks.

Evgeni can’t remember why he called.

“I’m in Moscow,” he tells Sidney.

Evgeni is. He is in Moscow with Alex, and every part of him aches with exhaustion. It must show; it has to. Evgeni was never good at hiding anything.

“Good,” Sidney says.

“Sid,” Evgeni tries. “It isn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Sidney tells him. “I promise.”

Evgeni closes his eyes and he doesn’t know what he’s saying until he finds himself saying; “Sanja says you love me.”

On the other end of the line, Sidney is quiet. The sound of Lauren and Mario talking has faded. Evgeni can only hear Sidney’s breath as he exhales slowly.

“I do,” Sidney says simply.

In the darkness, Evgeni grips his mobile. Over the phone, he hears Sidney ask if he’s still there. Evgeni wants to lie, but he doesn’t have the strength.

“Still here,” he says, promises maybe.

And he is.

For better or for worse, he is.

Evgeni is so tired of being so easy for Sanja. So tried of his stupid heart responding like a trained dog each and every time Sanja looks at him. He thinks about what ifs. He thinks about if he had never known Sanja, if he had never once heard his name. He isn’t sure if he would be any happier.

He tells Sidney that. He isn’t sure if he should, but he does.

“Geno,” Sidney breaths.

Evgeni isn’t sure he can stand to hear what Sidney must be thinking.

“I fucked your boyfriend,” he says, trying to be cruel. His voice sounds weak though. “I’m fucking your boyfriend.”

Sidney is quiet. The sound of his siblings has faded.

“He was yours first,” Sidney says eventually.

It makes Evgeni laugh. Sanja never belonged to anyone other than himself. Deep down, Evgeni has always known that. Yet still he had fallen for Sanja over and over again. He is so tired. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what Sanja or Sidney want. Sidney’s declaration of love sits across his shoulders and rests in the palms of his hand like a yoke and a pearl. He fell for Sidney within the first few days they knew each other. There is no grace to the way he gives away his heart.

“It’s okay,” Sidney says, promises.

Evgeni isn’t sure if it is. He trusts Sidney, but he doesn’t trust himself. He is a liar at heart, but that only makes him more honest now.

“What if I said choose?” Evgeni asks.

Sidney exhales. “I don’t know if I could.”

“Me to,” Evgeni tells Sidney, because he doesn’t know if he could choose either.

He isn’t sure what now.

“What if it was the three of us?” Sidney asks.

Evgeni – Evgeni isn’t sure if that is any better.

“I miss you,” he tells Sidney.

It’s true and it hurts the way most true things do.

 

 

There is a difference between being kept at arm’s length and the distance imposed by time zones and oceans.

 

 

It isn’t until the morning when Zhenya leaves that they both stop. While Alex is making breakfast, Zhenya lets Alex into his space, laying his head on the back of Alex’s neck while he is reaching for plates out of the cupboard.

Alex closes his eyes and lets him.

His heart feels like it is the wrong shape inside his chest. He feels like he left too much of it in each game, gave it away without thought or care. The parts he has left are in Pittsburgh, are with Sidney. For what it’s worth - for what they’re worth – they have been with him for years now. The rest are with Zhenya. Given carelessly, they were kept with care.  

Alex remembers youth tournaments where they would play together and KHL games where they would play against each other. There were endless nights of being bored in hotel rooms and shouting to be heard in the VIP areas of endless bars and clubs.

Alex remembers being aware of how Zhenya wanted him.

He remembers how he would talk to everyone but Zhenya, how he would ignore Zhenya, look through him as if he wasn’t there, and then turn up at Zhenya’s room as if Zhenya was a last resort and push him down onto the awful hotel mattress and ride him, slick and relentless. Alex remembers laughing as he fuck himself on Zhenya’s cock, and the way Zhenya would arch his body under Alex’s as if his body was made for nothing else but getting Alex’s off.

Alex remembers being twenty one and suddenly having to work to keep Sidney’s attention when Zhenya was in the room. Sidney never once looked over Zhenya’s shoulder or past his easy smile.

Alex was never able to look over or past Sidney either. He and Zhenya have that in common.

“I miss him too,” Alex tells him, because he thinks he will always miss Sidney when they are apart.

Zhenya pulls away, startled as if Alex had said something new, something surprising and unexpected.

For a moment, neither of then move, then Zhenya surges towards him. His mouth is desperate against Alex’s and his fingers bunch up the faded Rimouski Océanic t-shirt he stole from Sidney. Sex is a mess. Zhenya is beautiful in Alex’s bed. It is almost like he is bursting at the seams under Alex’s hands. He comes fast and graceless when Alex blows him and sobs when Alex fingers him open, his spent cock twitching against his thigh.

“Please,” he begs, and Alex kisses him because he used to make Zhenya beg, it used to get him off, but now – now Alex kisses Zhenya because he should never have to beg for what he wants.

When Alex presses into Zhenya, he presses his face into the hollow of Zhenya’s throat and tries to catch his breath. Together they find a haphazard rhythm. Alex rolls his hips and Zhenya wraps his legs around Alex’s waist. Zhenya’s already come, but when Alex wraps his hand around Zhenya’s cock, it is half hard. Thumbing the head, Alex bites at Zhenya’s jaw.

“Fuck,” Zhenya whimpers. 

In far too short a time, Alex finds himself gasping and coming. Closing his yes, he tries to catch his breath. Underneath him, Zhenya is making small sounds as he rocks against Alex’s softening cock. Getting himself together, Alex wraps his hand around Zhenya’s cock and it only takes a few strokes to get him off.

 

 

(Evgeni’s flight is in the afternoon.

He doesn’t make it.)

 

 

Evgeni stays in Moscow, stays with Sanja and relearns his mouth and hands and body, and tries not to wince when Sanja does the same. There are so many things no one talks about. Loneliness carved Evgeni into too many pieces. The shape edges of them still catch him off guard. Their friends come and go. Seryozha calls. Sasha visits. In their own way, they both comment on what Evgeni and Sanja are doing. It has to be obvious. Or at least Evgeni knows he is. He has always been so terrible transparent when it comes to Sanja.

After their phone call, Sidney texts. In Pittsburgh for the summer, he’s recovery is tracked by his family who occasionally check in with Sanja.

Once or twice, Evgeni overhears Sanja speak to Sidney. The affection in his voice is clear, even if the words themselves are muffled. Sanja said Sidney knew – that they had spoken about this, them. Them being the three of them. Evgeni doesn’t know what to think.

It is a relief when the summer ends and he returns to Pittsburgh.

His life in Pittsburgh feels more ordered. There is a safety to it. Hockey divides his time up neatly. The expectations of the new season give him purpose and he lets that define him. Sidney is still out, but not for long; that is what Sidney says and what everyone reports. Evgeni lets that too, wash over him. He only has to keep going by himself for a little while longer.

He says as much to Sidney at the start of the first day at training camp.

“You’re not alone,” Sidney tells him.

Evgeni opens his mouth to speak, but Sidney shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Evgeni knocks his knee against Sidney’s. He isn’t sure he wants to know; isn’t sure he could take it. Everything feels so delicate between them. Jetlagged and worn, Evgeni doesn’t know what to say or feel. In Moscow, Sanja had been so confident. He didn’t leave anything unsaid; didn’t leave anything untouched. Sanja left his fingerprints all over Evgeni and now, sitting on the bench next to Sidney, looking out at the fresh ice, Evgeni’s heart doesn’t feel secure inside his chest.

“Want to come over for dinner?” Sidney asks.

Evgeni isn’t sure if he can take it. He nods though.

 

 

As far as meals go in the Lemieux household, it’s a relatively quiet dinner. Mario and Nathalie have a charity event they are attending, and Lauren is away on a business trip. Evgeni feels overdressed when he arrives to find Sidney and his younger siblings fighting over take away menus. Stephanie and Austin roll their eyes when Sidney suggests Evgeni cast the deciding vote.

“Not Sid’s choice,” Austin begs.

Sidney opens his mouth, clearly about to give an indignant retort, but Evgeni cuts him of before he can begin, siding with Alexa. It’s the safest option, though perhaps not the smartest given that he had only just had a check in with the Pens nutritionist. Argentinian take away probably wasn’t what they had in mind when they had discussed his protein intake levels.

“The season hasn’t even begun,” Alexa reasons like someone used to finding loopholes.

Sidney rolls his eyes but he lets her place their order.

While they wait, Evgeni listens to Stephanie and Austin talk about their school hockey team. They’re both following in Sidney’s footsteps and attending Shattuck-St Mary's. They’re due to fly out to Faribault in the next couple of days and are quite clearly excited about the prospect. Over the summer, they both attended training camps. Evgeni isn’t particularly knowledgeable about the developmental programs Canada runs. He only really knows that Sidney was overlooked as a teenager – in retrospect, a mistake perhaps on par with Jaromír Jágr’s trade, or trades. It isn’t one that looks like Hockey Canada is keen to repeat. The talent that Stephanie and Austin possess is quite clear.

Alexa isn’t as interested in hockey; though perhaps it is too early to tell. Like Lauren, she is a keen reader, and when their dinner arrives, she proudly displays the tricks she had taught the family dogs. On her cues (and with the help of some scraps from her dinner plate), the Lemieux’s Great Dane and black Labrador sit, roll over and offer their paws to Evgeni to shake. It’s quite impressive. He tells Alexa as much, and she smiles shyly.  

Afterwards, Evgeni helps Sidney clean the kitchen. They work comfortably together, loading the dishwasher with the used plates and glasses, boxing up the left overs and wiping down the counter. Down the hall, the sound of ESPN being switched on can be heard as it echoes to the kitchen. When they finish, Sidney makes them a cup of tea. Evgeni finds himself grinning at the suggestion.

“I like tea,” Sidney claims.

Evgeni isn’t sure that’s true, but he lets Sidney make it for them; watching him as he opens and closes kitchen cabinets for mugs, fills the kettle, and fuss with a box of tea leaves clearly bought for the occasion. Reaching over, Evgeni measures out the tea leaves into the teapot.

“I’m glad you went to Moscow,” Sidney says as Evgeni pours boiling water into the teapot and turns it three times.

Evgeni isn’t sure if he is. Sidney pauses when Evgeni tells him that.

They are friends. Sidney is perhaps one of Evgeni’s best friends. For all they have gone through, Evgeni has always been able to count on that. On him.

“Geno – ” Sidney starts.

Evgeni can’t let him finish.  

“Please,” he tries.

Sidney doesn’t push, but he doesn’t need to.

“You asked if I could choose. You can too. You know that, right? It’s up to you.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

Sidney leans back against the kitchen counter. It would be so easy for Evgeni to step inside his space, to touch the soft cotton of his shirt and duck his head down to the crook of his shoulder.

“You can’t live in two places at the same time,” Sidney says softly.

Evgeni can’t look at him.

His voice is kind – Sidney is kind.

“I know,” Evgeni says.

It hurts, but so much does.

He loves Sidney. He loves him too. Evgeni hasn’t told him that. He hasn’t spoken those words to Sanja either. As a teenager, keeping those words to himself was the only thing he could do to protect himself. Now those words feel trapped inside him, caught in his throat every time he looks at Sidney.

 

 

In November, Sidney is cleared to return to the ice, but after only a handful of games, his concussion symptoms return. When news reaches Alex, all he wants is to get to Pittsburgh, he cannot. Not with the Caps heavy schedule of games this week. Instead he speaks to Lauren who sounds so shattered over the phone, and to Mario who will not say anything at all. Alex hates being so far away, so useless and completely unable to help. When the Capitals fly out to play the Penguins three achingly long weeks later, Sidney is well enough to attend the game. However it is late when Alex finally is able to leave Consol, and by the time he gets to the Lemieux’s place it’s clear that it’s too late for Sidney.

Quietly leaving his bags just inside Sidney’s room, Alex strips out of his game suit in the dark. With his hair still damp from the quick shower he had in the visitors change rooms, Alex shivers he changes into a worn t-shirt and boxers. Slipping into bed, Alex curls close to Sidney. Against Alex’s side, Sidney’s eyes are closed now but he’s still half awake. The movement, or perhaps the sound of Alex slipping into bed, unsettling Sidney from slumber. Murmuring quietly to him, Alex doesn’t realise he’s slipped from English to Russian until Sidney’s breath evens out and his grip on Alex’s shirt slackens.

In the morning, sleep clings to Sidney, making him soft and easily swayed. Hidden away from the world at large, Alex concentrates on his breathing trying to match it to Sidney’s, but failing when Sidney slowly wakes. Grumbling at the sound of Alex’s alarm, Sidney’s fingers clench the fabric of Alex’s t-shirt. Traces from the night before linger in the shadows under his eyes and the tangled knots in his hair.

Reaching across him, Alex fumbles with his phone as he silences it.

Alex has to leave. He should be up, in the shower. He rolls on top of Sidney, and it is never enough. There is never enough time. He wants more. He wants everything. Inside Alex’s chest, his heart hammers. He kisses Sidney; touches his skin, traces the crease marks the sheet have left on his skin with his fingertips, and ghosts his breath along the collar of stretched out t-shirt Sidney wore to sleep. He is beautiful like this; his mouth and hands clumsy and greedy in equal measures.

“I’m sorry,” Sidney says, exhaling the words into Alex’s skin when they break apart to breath.

Alex closes his eyes and it is only Sidney’s hands hold him together. It’s all back-to-front. All wrong.  

There is nothing for Sidney to be sorry for.

 

 

There are no shortcuts.

Time unfolds slowly.

Evgeni knee has healed, and in time Sidney will too.

For better or for worse, the season becomes Evgeni’s. He sees that.

The summer fades unevenly into something he still doesn’t have the words for. He isn’t sure if he needs them, at least not with Sidney. When Sanja is in town, Evgeni finds himself waiting for him to bring it up. Because that is what Sanja would have done when they were teenagers. He hadn’t. Instead he nods at Evgeni before following Mario home as Sanja always tended to, and that had been it. In the morning he was due to fly out, Evgeni found himself, for the first time in a long time, ignoring Sanja when he called. Later, when Sanja is safely on his way back to Washington, Evgeni allows himself to listen to Sanja’s voicemail. His voice sounds the same, perhaps a little softer. 

It would be easier if Evgeni felt nothing, if Sanja was just someone he grew up with – if he was just someone Sidney played against.

It is a selfish thought.

With Sidney out on IR for the foreseeable future, the Penguins line-up is arranged around Evgeni, as is the media. Used to being an afterthought, now he is the topic of conversation. His agent, Pat Brisson, acts as if he had spent his lifetime waiting for a moment such as this and sets about booking Evgeni interviews and magazine covers, organising hugely profitable new sponsorship deals. Only now, with no one to live up to, Evgeni finds himself unsettled.

“Is this what it’s like to be you?” Evgeni finds himself asking Sidney once, exhausted, after a meeting with Pat.

Sidney laughs, loud and unexpected. For a moment, he is all Evgeni can see.

“I don’t know,” Sidney tells him. “Maybe ask Mario?”

Evgeni isn’t sure if he would dare. Sanja would, but Sanja is shameless.

He spent his life chasing after Sanja, but in the midst of a slump, the comparisons between them are now quite different. Evgeni isn’t used to it. He doesn’t know if he wants to get used to it. Perhaps a few years ago, Sanja would have made a joke out of that. Maybe he’d make it into one now. Evgeni doesn’t know. Increasingly, he isn’t sure.

Sanja keeps calling. Sometimes Evgeni answers. Sometimes he doesn’t.

Evgeni thinks of the summer, and he thinks of the ones before it.

The past is a powerful force. Sidney was right to warn Evgeni of the dangers of letting it become a yoke.

 

 

When the Capitals have a particularly long home stand, Alex somehow convinces Mario to lets Sidney come and be checked out by the Caps doctors. Mario and the Penguins have sent Sidney to specialists all over the country. Alex understands why; he hopes the Cap’s team can help in some way too. However sometimes when Alex happens to catch Sidney after an appointment, his voice over the phone is subdue and the calls don’t often last long.

“I hate hospitals,” Sidney confides once, back when they were rookies and Alex had gotten him tipsy enough to be stupid enough to say something like that.

“That’s stupid,” Alex had told him.

The Lemieux’s have Austin’s Playrooms and Lemieux Sibling rooms of states all across of the United States. Sidney has opened more than his fair share of them. Alex himself attended the opening of the Austin’s Playroom in the Washington Hospital. The bright space felt warm and vibrant compared to the rest of the hospital, and Alex had ended up staying longer to sign autographs much to Sidney and Mario’s chagrin. They might be legends in Pittsburgh, but Alex could hold his own in his town.

Apart from games and a handful of events like the opening of the playroom, Sidney has never really visited Alex. Not for any real length of time. Not like this. When Alex gets Sidney back to his place, Sidney holds himself still when Alex kisses him hello.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sidney says when Alex pulls away.

It almost makes Alex laugh. “That’s shit.”

Sidney shakes his head a little. “No, it isn’t.”

This is it – Alex has known this for a while now. Standing in his entrance with Ghera wagging her tail and dancing around them, Alex suddenly realises it anew. This is it, this is everything. It’s overwhelming but Alex has never been afraid of what he wants. Sidney is warm and solid under Alex’s hands and Alex has never been afraid of Sidney either.

Because Alex can, he says, “We’re not under Mario’s roof.”

It makes Sidney laugh, dissipating some of his nerves before Alex’s eyes.

“Going to take advantage of that?” he asks.

“Stupid question,” Alex tells him, because it is and it makes the corners of Sidney’s eyes crinkle when he smiles.

There were plans. Plans and ideas and – but still standing in the entrance of his home, Alex kisses Sidney. Sidney grins and kisses back, eager and easy. With careful hands, Alex cradles the back of Sidney’s neck with one, and slides his other hand under underneath Sidney’s shirt to touch his skin, shameless. Sidney groans and Alex is gone, so gone it’s ridiculous. Alex isn’t a rookie anymore, but he feels as stupid over Sidney now as he did them.

In his bedroom, Alex undresses Sidney, and presses him against Alex’s unmade bed. Straddling Sidney, Alex leans down to bite at Sidney collar bones, to lick at Sidney’s pale nipples. Underneath him, Sidney’s breath is laboured and his skin is flushed. Alex feels himself coming undone. He has imagined this so many times, in so many ways.

“I was going to make you dinner,” Alex finds himself saying, because he was. He had al kinds of plans. He was going to invite Mikhail and Mia over, maybe Sasha too. He was going to cook them all steaks and open a bottle of wine old enough that it would hopefully impress a Lemieux.

Sidney laughs. “Does this mean I have to cook tonight?”

Alex – this is so stupid, he is so stupid. He grins a little, ducking his head and hiding it in the curve of Sidney’s neck.

“I will still make you dinner,” he tells Sidney, because he will.

“Thank you,” Sidney says, because of course he would say that.

It makes Alex laugh a little. Sidney smiles a little; his eyes crinkling fondly, his mouth red.

For as long as Alex has known Sidney, Sidney has been self-contained. Zhenya was the only one in so many ways for Sidney. Alex does not fool himself when it comes to that. He cannot, not when Zhenya means so much to him. Yet because of Zhenya, Alex makes himself ask. Pulling away from Sidney, Alex uses one hand to brace himself above him.

“What have you – how far –” Alex starts to ask, but cannot finish.

“Geno wouldn’t let me touch him,” Sidney says.

Sidney’s expression is unreadable and Alex isn’t sure what to say.

“You can touch me,” he says finally, because Sidney can, Alex wants him too. Alex wants him.

“Yeah?”

Alex nods. “Yes.”

He closes his eyes when Sidney reaches up and kisses Alex on his chest, over his heart. It’s unpractised and Alex exhales in a rush. His skin feels stretched tight over his bones, and helplessly, he rocks his hips down against Sidney’s, Sidney’s cock slipping against his. And Alex doesn’t care for plans or ideas or anything apart from Sidney. With a greedy mouth, Alex kisses Sidney, tasting his skin in the hollow of his throat, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse, and swallowing his whimpers until Sidney breaks away to breath. 

Eyes dark and fingers knotted in Alex’s hair, Sidney is beautiful and undone.

With a spit slick hand, Alex palms Sidney’s cock. Wrapping his palm around both of them, Alex jerks them off together. Sidney comes first. Alex doesn’t last. He can’t, not with Sidney shuddering underneath him, his pupils blown out and his skin flushed.

It takes Alex a long time to catch his breath afterwards.

Unable to let Sidney go, Alex curls around him, his heart hammering within his chest. Calm and so solid in Alex’s arms, Sidney lets Alex stay like that.

 

 

In the evening, they end up joining Mikhael and Mia for dinner at a local restaurant. Alex orders champagne which Sidney doesn’t drink, and too much food and Mikhael knows what Alex is doing. Alex has never been particularly good at hiding anything from his brother and this is no exception. Yet Mikhael does not say a word. He sips champagne and lets Mia finish off his pasta, and Alex has never felt more grateful. Back in Alex’s house, in his room is Sidney’s faded and battered Penguin’s duffle, and by his side at the table is Sidney. Inside Alex’s chest, his heart is beating so loudly and his skin feels too tight to hold everything he feels. He is not surprised Mikhael knows what Alex is doing.

On the drive back home, Alex watches Sidney out of the corner of his eye.

A few hours ago, Sidney was in his bed.

When they pull up in Alex’s driveway, Sidney waits a step behind Alex as Alex unlocks his front door. Inside, Ghera welcomes them home. Slipping and sliding, she dances around their feet, wagging her tail and making soft sounds. It takes about half an hour to settle her. While Alex is out in the yard, watching her pad through the grass, he hears the soft murmur of Sidney’s voice. On the phone, Alex overhears a few words here and there, but for the most part Alex’s lets the sound of Sidney’s voice wash over him.

By the time Alex lets Ghera back inside, Sidney is off his mobile. His smiles when he sees Alex, his face soft and happy. Unable to help himself, Alex presses close and tucks a kiss behind Sidney’s ear, and when that isn’t enough, Alex kisses the corner of his jaw. 

“Bed,” Sidney says.

Alex nods. “Yes, Sid. Bed.”

 

 

In Alex’s room, Sidney sheds his clothes until he is naked against Alex’s sheets. He pulls Alex against him, trembling a little as Alex settles between his legs. Still dressed, Alex thinks this is all backwards. Sidney cheeks are flushed and his hair is tangled in Alex’s fingers, and Alex feels so vulnerable. Sidney is Alex’s best friend and Alex wants him and has for as long as he can remember. He can’t help but tell Sidney that, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rushed, too honest tangle. He wants Sidney to know. He wants Sidney to know everything.

“You’re my best friend too,” Sidney tells Alex, breathless and stupidly beautiful.

Feeling daft and defenceless, Alex laughs a little. “Liar.”

Everyone and their dog know that Sidney’s best friend is Mario.

Sidney smiles though, and tilts his head up to kiss the corner of Alex’s jaw, his lips soft and hot against Alex’s skin and Alex stops thinking about Sidney’s Hall of Fame father and how Alex had his picture on his bedroom wall growing up. He loses track of time, only catching himself at the sound of Sidney letting out a pained groan as the buckle of his belt digs in to Sidney’s stomach when Alex grinds his cock down against Sidney’s. Apologising, Alex fumbles to get it undone. Ducking his head, he feels uncoordinated and out of breath as he simultaneously tries to take off his pants and sweater too. Last night he did this. Last night he managed to get Sidney undressed too. He tells Sidney that, but instead of reassuring him it only makes Sidney take pity on him, his fingers clever as they pull Alex’s sweater up over his head, and then work one by one on his shirt buttons.

Sidney has stopped trembling by the time Alex is naked, and Alex can’t help but kiss him again and again until Sidney is squirming underneath Alex, his cock hard and his hips moving in tiny, uneven circles against Alex’s.

“I want to fuck you,” he says and Sidney nods, his eyes dark and his mouth red.

There is something about Sidney, about the trust in his expression, which undoes Alex all over again. He fumbles as he reaches into his bedside table. Clumsy, he rifles through draws. His fingers fumble over paperbacks and random miscellanea when Sidney presses a kiss to his shoulder. Closing his eyes, Alex shudders. It runs right through him, from his toes to his fingertips.

“Hurry up,” Sidney tells him.

Opening his eyes, Alex looks down at Sidney. Under him, Sidney is grinning so brightly and Alex has never been afraid of what he wanted. Maybe this is rushed. Maybe it’s been a long time coming. Maybe both. Alex doesn’t know. He only knows Sidney.

Breathless, Alex presses a kiss to Sidney’s knee and the soft skin of his inner thigh as he slicks his fingers with lube and stretches Sidney open. For a little while, the lightness leaves Sidney and Alex sees the sharp edge of nerves in the tension in his body. It takes Sidney a while to relax, a while for Alex to start to figure out what works, what makes Sidney gasp and groan. Alex wants it to be good for Sidney. By the time Sidney is ready, he is flushed and wanting. His dick is leaking pre-come onto his stomach. Unable to help himself, Alex presses his lips to the tip and mouths the head.

“Alex,” Sidney manages to choke out, his knuckles white and fingers knotted in Alex’s sheets.

Backing away, Alex reaches for a condom. Sidney watches, his breathing ragged and skin flushed and hot to the touch. Steadying himself with a hand to Sidney’s hip, Alex takes a deep breath before he presses in, an inch at a time. He tries not to rush, tries to take his time, but he can’t get close enough.

Alex tries to pace himself, tries to rock his hips slowly. He can’t help but speed up, finding and losing any rhythm. Bracing himself with one hand, Alex wraps his other around Sidney’s cock and bites at Sidney’s bottom lip when he arches his back and whimpers. It feels like Sidney is taking Alex apart, piece by piece. He twists himself closer and closer, until there is no space between their bodies.

Breaking away from Sidney’s mouth, Alex presses his lips against the slick skin of Sidney’s neck. Under his lips, Sidney’s pulse is fluttering and Alex is so close.

“Fuck,” Sidney sobs as he comes, and that’s all it takes for Alex.

He follows Sidney over the edge in a rush that leaves him boneless and stupid.   

 

 

It takes Sidney a while to catch his breath afterwards. His heart is so loud within his chest and he can’t quite release his grip on Alex. Collapsed on top of him, his weight pins Sidney down, anchoring him. He only shifts when Sidney’s fingers twitch a little, grasping and relaxing his grip on Alex’s knotted hair. Letting out a huff, Alex settles next to Sidney, his body a hot, sweaty line against Sidney’s and his expression sweet and awfully opaque.

“Beginners luck,” Alex mutters. He sounds like he’s laughing a little.

Sidney pinches him.

Alex smiles, wide and stupid, and Sidney rolls his eyes. Alex is the worst.

Forcing himself up, Sidney makes his way to Alex’s bathroom. Turning on the shower, Sidney gets a few minutes under the spray by himself before Alex’s pushes his way in, looping his arms around Sidney’s waist and resting his chin on Sidney’s shoulder. He’s more a hindrance than a help, but Sidney doesn’t mind even, not even when Alex’s hands start to wander, touching his hips and sensitive cock and stomach and running a line up and down Sidney’s spine. Sidney is shaking a little by the time Alex presses a sloppy kiss to the side of his neck.

Turning off the water, Sidney reaches for a towel. The bathroom is warm and foggy with steam. Sidney feels half asleep, his body heavy and worn. Besides him, Alex rubs a towel through his hair before doing the same to Sidney’s. His hands are gentle and Sidney closes his eyes for a moment.   

“Good?” Alex asks.

Sidney nods.

For everything and everyone, Sidney cannot help but think of Geno when he and Alex crawl into bed together. Earlier, when they got back from dinner, Sidney had called Geno, checking in with him. Over the phone, there was a distance to Geno that felt unfamiliar. His voice echoed down the line.  As Alex settles by Sidney’s side, his eyes heavy and his breathing evening out, Sidney think of Geno, thinks of his haphazard kindness, and misses him.

“I wish Geno was here,” he tells Alex.

It’s an admission that makes Sidney feel clumsy and young as Alex laces his fingers through Sidney’s.

“He should be with us,” Alex agrees.

There is a sense of guilt in his time. A sadness.

Sidney presses a kiss to Alex’s shoulder. There is only so much Sidney knows, only so much he could read between the lines. Alex rubs his eyes when Sidney asks. The question has been a long time coming; they both know that.

In the darkness Sidney listens as Alex tells him about Geno, about what happened in Moscow, and Washington and Pittsburgh and Vancouver. He tells Sidney about being rivals and friends, about training camps and international comps and the KHL and how their lives were intertwined for so long. In disorganised sentences, Alex tells Sidney about _Zhenya_ ; about his bleeding heart and how love shines out of him so clearly and how it undoes him time and time again. Alex tells Sidney everything. There is so much Sidney already knew; things he assumed and read between the lines. But Alex tells Sidney anyway. His voice shakes as he does, and - Alex feels in extremes and abundance. It undoes him, he knows.

“Mostly for you,” Alex smiles sadly. “In one way or another.”

Sidney rolls his eyes.

Alex presses a kiss to the corner of Sidney’s mouth, and the fingers tangled in Sidney’s hair twitch.

“And Zhenya,” Alex adds, his lips brushing Sidney’s

To his ears, his voice is unusually fragile. Sidney nods. He understands that, perhaps better than anyone. The three of them are draw in uneven lines, in words and mistakes and affection. Alex is bright and loud and he feels like he is Sidney’s as much as Sidney feels like his. His and Zhenya’s.

 

 

It’s been Zhenya for as long as Alex can remember, and Sidney as long as Alex cared to remember.

It’s the three of them. Alex knows it for sure now, just as Sidney always knew it.

Their home is not a place or address in a gated community or teams in the NHL or under their countries banners. It’s with each other. Sidney understands that, and Alex thinks he is beginning to. But Zhenya doesn’t, not quite yet. But that’s okay. Alex is patient, he can wait.  

 

 

On the 13th of December, The Detroit Red Wings fly out to play the Penguins. It’s an awful game, as far as they go. The Red Wings win by more than a small margin, and even though Evgeni tries, he can’t turn the game around. Afterwards, Evgeni and Pasha meet up for dinner. When Evgeni was younger, dinners after losses, especially painful ones was awful. He could never shake off the loss and it made him feel worst when Pasha clearly could.

There was always an age gap between them, but Evgeni doesn’t feel it so keenly now. Maybe he has finally settled into his skin as Pasha once promised Evgeni would. Before the Vancouver games, Evgeni was spoken to – lectured – by too many people to count. Pasha wasn’t the one of them. Every time they had met that season, Evgeni had waited for him to start. It was always the same. A message of team unity with an undertone of silence. Because it would have been easier if Evgeni was quiet. Easier if he said the right things and then said nothing. Easier for him, easier for everyone.

Shut up and play.

Shut up and play well.

 That was the real message.

Evgeni doubted Sanja received the same one.

For all that they had fought for ranking, goals, ice time; the only one competing was Evgeni. Sanja didn’t compete. He won. He made it look easy – he made it look beautiful. Every inch Evgeni gained was hard fought. It felt surreal to arrive in Pittsburgh his rookie year and find himself seated at Mario Lemieux’s table and playing alongside his son. Suddenly the game changed and it wasn’t about Sanja or being second to him, it was about being a Penguin.  Instead of spiting insults after games and biting each other until the bites turned into kisses, they had an audience and their words were being printed and read back to them by their agents and their Team Russia teammates.

The rules had changed, but they hadn’t.

In retrospect, Evgeni isn’t sure what to think – isn’t sure how much those few months coloured him. There are still questions asked – reporters still look for a story between them. Sochi is on the horizon and discord is so much more interesting than unity. All those old Vancouver stories are made new by the possibility of friction between them. Pasha is thoughtful when Evgeni asks him.

“I never doubted you,” Pasha says eventually. “You made things right in the end.”

“Did I?”

Pasha smiles a little. “Why are you asking this now?”

Evgeni isn’t sure what to say, and Pasha sighs.

“Sanja? Again?”

“Not quite.”

Of everyone, Pasha had treated Evgeni like an adult. Even when he probably shouldn’t have, he did. Pasha knew about Sanja then, as he had known about everything. Or maybe Evgeni was just hopeless when it came to hiding his heart.

“You wear it on your sleave,” Pasha admits. “It wasn’t heard to tell.”

Evgeni supposes not. He had tried to hide it from Sanja, but he hadn’t thought to hide it from anyone else. He hadn’t thought anyone would look and see. It was stupid. Childish, really.

And now there is Sidney, and his huge heart that he had given to both of them.

Pasha always liked Sidney. Evgeni did too.

Evgeni arrived in Pittsburgh not knowing what to expect and found Sidney waiting for him – he still is.

Pasha laughs. “What are you waiting for then?”

Evgeni – Evgeni doesn’t know.

“Maybe you should.”

 

 

(Pasha is right. Evgeni should know.

Either way, Evgeni should know.)

 

 

As a rule the Crosby family – and the Forbes family - were never particularly large or close. During Sidney’s rookie year a few distant members seemed to appear out of nowhere. Sidney had no recollection of any of them. He ended up briefly meeting a few of them over the years. Some send him Christmas cards, others occasional text him after they catch a game. Behind the scenes, he is sure all the Crosby’s and Forbes he has met were all thoroughly vetted by Steve, his parents, and particularly by April.

He and April always found time for each other before his injury; a place was always set for her at the Lemieux table, and she made a point of always giving him the key to her apartment. Hockey was not without sacrifices, and having limited time for family and friends was one of them. Now though, he seems to have nothing but time.

With his concussion, Sidney finds himself spending more time with April. A vicarious reader, she drops over after work with large print library books and stories from her workplace. On the weekend, April comes over for lunch and tells him about her plans to repaint her apartment. She brings glossy magazines and talks about colour. Five years ago, he bought her that apartment with its high ceilings and period features. It’s strange how much time has passed since he pressed the key into the palm of her hand. It’s one of the better things he’s done.

Over lunch, she tells him how her father called. It’s a relatively new development. The Forbes side of the family have never been particularly close. Generally their family ties are loose and sometimes frayed. Sidney caught up with them the last time he was in Toronto. It had been an awkward dinner, but they always were. It was much easier catching up with his uncles and grandparents whenever the Pens were in Montreal. The Lemieux’s were a different kind of family though.  

April never really knew his parents.

“Before the divorce, we saw them during the holidays a few times,” she offers quietly.

It isn’t much. Sidney tries to smile because he has never liked seeing April upset and she is upset that she can’t offer him more. When he was first sent to stay with her, there were periods when he didn’t speak for days. Time seemed to pass slowly and without him noticing. There were huge blanks in his memory, both from that time and later, when he was being shuffled from foster home to foster home.

“I don’t remember what happened to them,” he finds himself saying.

He watches her fingers grip the edge of the library book. The pages are yellow and the edges blunt with age and use.

“You were very young,” April says.

He was.

“So were you,” he says, because she was. He realises that now. He’s older than she was when he was given into her care.

He has read the stories. He has watched news reports. But he does not remember what happened. He does not remember his father’s voice or his mother’s perfume. Two years ago, he stood outside his childhood home, and had not recognised it. After his leg of the relay, he had attended the official celebration Halifax had organised in his honour. While there he had been introduced to a woman who apparently was his kindergarten teacher. According to her, he took after his mother in looks, but got his love of hockey from both of them, for it was not just his father who was a keen athlete. Apparently his mother had been an excellent sprinter.

It had been a strange conversation, and surrounded by camera crews and recording equipment, Sidney had made a point of not letting it go on too long.

Now –

Sidney doesn’t know. The bookmarked clips of his father playing hockey, the photographs journalists took of his old house, the tiny pond where his parents took him to skate - they cannot be compartmentalised. Cannot just be details of his narrative arch of Pittsburgh’s adopted son. Grief is an odd thing. He thought he was done with it years ago and now it feels like it was delayed. It crashes over him now, catching him off guard at unexpected moments, aching for something had long since lost.

 

 

In January, the beat reporters start to ask Evgeni about the All Star game. He is set to play, as are Tanger and Neal. Sanja, of course on the roster, or at least is until the Caps play the Pens only a few days before they are all due to fly out to Ottawa. During the second period, he delivers a blatantly illegal hit on Pittsburgh's Zbynek Michalek. Sanja and the Capitals organisation present a case to the league arguing against that the penalty, but it is unsuccessful.

When he calls, Evgeni thinks about not answering. The only reason he does is he knows if he doesn’t, he knows Sanja will call Sidney. He might have already and Evgeni – Sanja shouldn’t be speaking to Sidney now.

Sanja has always played a physical game. Where it took Evgeni time to adjust to the way hockey is played in the NHL, Sanja never really needed too. However the game is changing. What was acceptable a year ago isn’t anymore. Sanja’s hit on Michalek is his third. That is enough to get a reputation. The NHL Player Safety committee now considers Sanja a repeat offender. Since the suspension was announced, he and members of the Caps organisation have complained about how Michalek was neither fined nor suspended after he elbowed Matt Hendricks in the head later on in the same game.

Evgeni knows he is not blameless; he has his own record.

Sanja though – hits like that took Sidney out. He can’t compartmentalise or ignore that. He can’t, because they did and the first of them came from one of Sanja’s teammates.

Evgeni knows he is not good at confrontations, specifically not with Sanja, but he knows what this call is about and so he says what Sanja needs to hear. It takes the fight out of him. The line goes silent and Evgeni thinks that might be it. That might be all. Evgeni isn’t sure what else he could say or give Sanja now. Sidney isn’t great with words, but he’s always been better with Sanja than Evgeni.

“I’d never– ” Sanja starts to say.

“You did,” Evgeni tells him, because he thinks he is one of the few people who will.

 

 

Two days later, Alex withdraws from the All Star game citing the suspension as his reason (even though the All- Star Game does not count as a game with respect to suspensions). He is replaced by James Neal.

When Sidney hears, he asks if Alex will be spending the weekend in Pittsburgh.

Alex isn’t sure if he can. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Sidney says.

 

 

The All Star Weekend is a strange sort of event. It reminds Evgeni a little of the American Spring Break films he sometimes sees being replayed on cable; lots of jokes and drinks and people with familiar faces. It’s surreal and Evgeni ends up sliding up next to Pasha when James Neal goes and embarrasses himself in front of his Team Alfredsson teammates. They both watch James attempt to participate in a conversation with his team co-coaches. John Tortorella and Todd McLellan don’t seem to require his input at all, leaving James to grin awkwardly and then be caught off guard when they ask him a question they actually expect him to answer. It is hilarious, as most things involving James are. 

“He’s my liney, but this is too good to stop,” Evgeni admits.

Pasha nods.

Pasha’s only teammate is Jimmy Howard and unlike James, Jimmy seems to be able to hold his own. More or less. In the lobby, Evgeni has caught him showing the hotel staff baby photographs. Pasha nods when Evgeni tells him.

“He’s got a cute kid,” he says with the voice of someone who spent the entire flight looking at pictures of Jimmy’s kid wearing an onesie in the shape of a Koala.

After the first day, when most of the guys go out drinking, Pasha and Evgeni go out for dinner instead. Pasha’s wife Svetlana joins them, bringing their daughter Elizabeth. They’re a lovely family. Elizabeth has grown since Evgeni last saw her. Her long honey colour hair hides her face as she pulls a book out of Svetlana’s handbag to read while they wait for their meals. Pasha smiles fondly as he watches her crack open the novel and bit her lip as she starts to read.

It’s a quiet dinner.

Nealer and a few of the guys planned a night on the town. Bars and clubs with VIP sections already reserved. Maybe later Evgeni will join them. For now, this is where he wants to be. Pasha and Svetlana married very young. When Evgeni was twenty he couldn’t imagine marriage. He isn’t sure if he can imagine it now. Pasha isn’t a minority in the NHL. There are more than a few guys in the Pens locker can’t imagine it now.

When Svetlana and Elizabeth go to the bathroom, Pasha refills Evgeni’s glass of wine.

“Have you worked out what you want yet?”

Evgeni – he nods. He thinks he has.

“That is a reason to celebrate,” Pasha smiles.

 

 

On IR, Sidney both has some time to himself and none at all. It’s been a while since he was able to plan anything in advance without having to think about viable contingency plans. In his absence, Lauren has taken over many of the informal clinics that they usually lead together. A few times Stephanie has helped out, and once or twice Austin and Alexa have tagged along to act as Lauren’s unofficial assistants.

With the All Star weekend upon them, they all get together to organise a Little Penguins clinic at the Consol. Where the clinics were once pretty small affairs, now they are much bigger. Sometime Sidney misses when it was just him and Lauren racing around the community rec league rink, trying to teach a dozen or so kids how to skate. However it is difficult to argue against the benefits Nike had brought to the now formalised Little Penguins program. Being fully outfitted in hockey gear is a huge gift to a lot of the kids and their families. It’s been a long time since Sidney wore second hand gear, but he still remembers how much it meant to him. Even now Sidney vividly remembers the black eyes and bruises he got from refusing to give up the crappy stick Mario had autographed for him.

With Raleigh hosting the All Stars event, the focus of much of the media has shifted. It leaves Pittsburgh quiet and uncomplicated. Sidney and Mario attend the morning session together, but by lunch Sidney is exhausted. It is a relief to be picked up by Nathalie and driven home. At the traffic lights she catches him yawning.

“Children are hard work,” he tells her.

She grins. “Tell me something I don’t know, kiddo.”

He snorts. He’ll give her that.

There are more good days now than there were last year, but it isn’t so much about good days and bad days anymore. At least not to Sidney.

Late the previous night Alex arrived. He drove down from Washington with Ghera. At least initially he had been meant to attend the All Stars weekend. When Sidney left for the Consol in the morning, Alex was still fast asleep.  When Sidney gets back home, he finds Alex exactly where Sidney let him. In Sidney’s absence, Ghera has jumped on the bed and is curled up next to Alex. When she sees Sidney, she ducks her head a little and hops off the bed to great him before slipping outside into the hall. Timid and easily spooked, the first time Alex brought her down he worried about her being overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the other dogs. Thankfully that was not the case.

At the sound of Sidney opening his bedroom door, Alex wakes. Yawning, he stretches. His body is long and Sidney lets himself look. Aware of the attention, Alex arches his hips just that little bit more, his hands reaching above his head to grasp the headboard. His cock is half hard in his boxer shorts. They don’t have the house to themselves like they did in Washington, but Alex is shameless nonetheless.

“You should come back to bed with me,” Alex says, his eyes hooded and his hair looking particularly stupid.

Sidney laughs, so full he thinks he understands what it might be like to be Alex.

“Alright,” he says, pressing his mouth against Alex’s jaw. “Alright.”

Cupping Alex’s cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, Sidney feels Alex’s breath catch in his throat. Alex’s skin smells of Sidney’s soap and his mouth tastes sleep sour and his cock is filling under Sidney’s hand. Sidney doesn’t know what to do with Alex. He never has. There is nothing hurried. Alex seems willing to let Sidney kiss him and kiss him for the longest time. Sidney’s jaw is beginning to ache by the time Alex starts to rock his hips up against Sidney’s.

“You could fuck me,” Alex offers magnanimously. “That would be nice too.”

Sidney bites the corner of Alex’s jaw but that doesn’t stop him from grinning.

 

 

Time passes unevenly. The All Stars Weekend ends. Evgeni returns home to Pittsburgh and over the course of the season he begins to collect goals. One after another they come until, one day, he breaks the fifty goal mark. It’s the first time he has done so in his career and for all that he chased it, the achievement feels surreal.

“The season isn’t over yet,” Sidney says when he comes out for drinks with the team.

“Yeah,” James grins. “Why stop at just fifty?”

Evgeni shrugs. “Maybe I score more if Lazy isn’t lazy.”

Beau snorts into his beer. James makes a face at him.

Motioning to the waitress, Sidney orders another round for the table. James being James leans over and kisses his cheek. Where last season there was a sense of frustration to Sidney, there is something more settled now. There are moments of anger – moments where he does not wish to let anyone close, but they are few and far apart. Then there are moments like this, moments where he is happy to share in Evgeni’s success, as if it lights him from within. There is something so honest about it, about him, that takes Evgeni’s breath away.

It is intimidating to think about Sidney.

Intimidating to love him.

When Sidney follows him home at the end of the night, Evgeni finds himself looking at the curve of his neck and the wrinkles in his shirt. The taxi is quiet. The driver has the radio on, but the volume is set too low for Evgeni to pick out any of the words the hosts are saying. Evgeni’s heart pounds and it’s nothing. It’s Sidney crashing in Evgeni’s spare bedroom. Only Evgeni wants it to be something. Sidney feels like home. Evgeni doesn’t know when that happened, or how. But it did and Sidney does.

As the taxi reaches Evgeni’s neighbourhood, Sidney turns his head and looks at Evgeni.

Evgeni doesn’t know what he sees.

“Can I?” Sidney asks.

Evgeni nods.

When the taxi pulls up at the curb of his home, Evgeni pays.  The night air is cold as Evgeni walks up to his porch and Sidney follows. A few meters away, the motion sensors activate, lighting their way. Sidney waits quietly as Evgeni unlocks the door. When they get inside, Evgeni steps inside Sidney’s space and kisses the hollow of his throat and the bow of his lips and the corner of his jaw.  

Sidney exhales all at once and brings his hands up to Evgeni’s shoulders, his fingers griping the wool of his coat.

 

 

In the morning, Evgeni makes Sidney tea, and ignores all of Nealer’s and Flower’s teasing text messages. They’ll be more or less the same as the ones they’ve been sending him for years.

 

 

At the end of the season Evgeni walks away with the Hart, the Ted Lindsay and the Art Ross trophies. Where once they would have been proof, now Evgeni isn’t sure what they are. A gift, perhaps.

When Evgeni sees Sanja again, he grins. Evgeni refuses to react. Only Sidney elbows him.

“Come on Geno,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going to get you in bed,” Sanja promises, his eyes full of laughter.

Evgeni doesn’t doubt that. Though maybe he will get Sanja in bed first.

Sanja grins when Evgeni says as much.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Sanja’s grin transitions into something more like a smirk. “When you do, I’m going to teach Sidney how to fuck you.”

 

 

**Epilogue:**

 

 

During the off season, word comes through early that there may be another lockout. Nothing is settled, nothing decided, but Mario has been there before and when he grows quiet, Sidney reads between the lines. It takes Alex longer. It isn’t until after he gets Austin to shave his head and gotten upset after a weeks’ worth of meetings with the NHLPA that he breaks during a conversation with Mario.

Mario has always been Alex’s hero; Sidney has always known this. Mario’s that, among other things, for Sidney too. But Mario can’t fix this.

From Magnitogorsk, Geno is a mess. He was one of the first NHL players to sign with another team upon news of the lockout, and Sidney is glad of that in his own way. Geno carries so much regret about how he left Metallurg Magnitogorsk. If wearing their colours and playing for them will resolve some of that guilt, then he should. But he shouldn’t do it alone. 

In the end, Sidney knows he has to say it, because Alex never will.

“Go play,” he tells Alex.

And Sidney means it. Alex can, and he should.

“No,” Alex says, and Sidney can tell that Alex means that, that he will stay and he will stand with Sidney and work to end this.

But Sidney doesn’t want that.

“I’ll bring you home,” he promises, because he will. “You and Geno.”

Sidney is sure of it. Maybe soon, or at the worst, a year later. But he will. He’ll bring them home to him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find/follow me on [tumblr](http://www.pr-scatterbrain.tumblr.com) if you want <3


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